In Hell With Love
by jooleeahh
Summary: Missing people are often never found. Those who are found are rarely found alive. What happens when one member of the CSI team goes missing? Update: How would you feel knowing that your friend could die at any moment...and you put her there?
1. Newspaper Article

Title: To Hell with Love

Rating: Most likely T

Author's Note: This is my first attempt at a csi fan fic. Got the idea while studying for my psychology exam. Please be nice. Don't tear me apart.

* * *

**Chapter One**

"The hardest thing in this world, is living in it"

He made a mental note to himself as he sat in the crack-stained chair of his car, taking in the pride of having the absolute control of his sanity. He was a dark-haired, pale skinned man of about thirty, with piercing eyes and a five-o'clock shadow. Nobody could look into his eyes for long and he knew it. They were deep-set, dark pools that were able to suck the life out of anyone, draining their will. And now, they carried thoughts of atrocity and wrong that even the angels could not bear.

He rolled down the window and threw his cigarette out. The final puff of smoke made a desperate escape for the outside, while the unfortunate ones dissolved into the air within the car, joining the others before them.

"It won't be long now". He mumbled as he took the chance to see himself in one of the mirrors…. as well as the tiny reflection of a body in the alley before driving off.

He's getting better at it…and now, he has his sights on bigger things and better experiments.

* * *

"Morning" 

Sara looked up from the newspapers that lay scattered all around the table before her.

"Slow day?"

"Now, why would you say that Nick?" She replied with a smile

"You're actually sitting here, early in the day…"

Nick pointed around before continuing, "in the break room, reading the local newspaper…need I say more?"

"I'm having my break now"

"That never stopped you before, shouldn't you be listening to that police scanner of yours?"

Sara glared at that smirk on Nick's face. It's true that she listens to her police scanner whenever she had the time. Nick and Warrick tend to tease her about this nature of hers, not that she minds. She has learned to take it easy, ever since Grissom suggested she find a hobby. The case where a woman, who stays home, work online, orders takeout and shops online was killed was enough for her to return home and clean out her apartment of catalogs. From then on, she vowed to never become like that. She wanted to learn how to trust, to care, to love…

_She was now moving on to being a more stable CSI, and more importantly, a person._

"I found a new hobby," Sara bluntly stated. It was getting a little hard to stay mad at that smirk. "I read newspapers now, can't you tell?"

"Whoa," Nick raised both his hands "I was just kidding" He went to the counter to pour himself a cup of coffee. He thought of pouring Sara one, but looking at the cup that was at arms length to where she was, he could tell…that wasn't her first cup.

"So…any news that captured your attention?" Nick took a seat on the chair that was opposite Sara, taking a sip of coffee as well as a glance at the invented words of the mess that laid before him. He looked at the slim CSI as she went from a troubled look to a defeated one. She tucked her dark brown hair behind her ear, paused a while before speaking,

"Homicide," Sara pointed at the headlines, " Somehow, I feel like as if I handled this case before. Do you get that?" She handed him the article. "That odd feeling?"

Nick looked at the headlines.

**Woman Found Dead in Alley Way **

"Don't we see this everyday?" Nick cleared his throat, " We're CSI's Sara, this is considered normal of us and our line of work. One way or the other, we're bound to see cases that seem similar. If you ask me, I beginning to think that these people…. have no sense of originality."

Sara smiled, "I guess you're right. The case just seems so familiar some how..."

"I know how emotionally you get with cases like these" Nick interrupted, "but if it'll make you feel better, I'll read the article and see if it rings any bells. For all we know, maybe we worked on it before."

"Thanks Nick, I'll appreciate that." Sara felt annoyed that Nick didn't let her finish her sentence, but she did feel thankful that he was taking her thoughts seriously. That's what she liked about Nick. He may not always be there, but he is willing to go out of his way for anyone. Whether it's her, Warrick or even Greg, Nick has the ability to make someone feel like they mattered.

"I got to go now, breaks over," Sara said, as she pointed to the back of her wrist, " Talk to you later, okay?" She got up from her chair and headed towards the door.

"Sure, anytime." Nick replied as he watched Sara leave. As much as he enjoys their close sibling-like relationship, he always wondered what it would be like to have her as "more than a friend". He tries to look out for her as and when he can, making sure she's alright. He hated Hank for using her. After they split up, he tried to set her up on dates, which she refused, to help her get out of her doldrums. He dislikes the occasional arguments they have during cases. Once, when she made a remark about his habit of getting too involved with some of the people in a case, he refrained from pointing out her own obsessive nature with her work. They almost always work well together and enjoy each other's company, but she has shown no inclination towards him. So, he'll let it slide, telling himself, if its meant to be, its meant to be.

Nick's thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. He turned to see Warrick walking towards him. The tall, dark man placed both his hand on the table.

"We gotta go --" he began, "got a case...body dump in the desert---are you reading the paper?!"

"So what if I am?" Nick joked. "Besides, it'll make an interesting hobby. I would really like to read this article though, can it wait?"

Warrick thought for a second, "We're heading towards Death Valley...its about a 2hour ride. I'll tell you what...I'll drive, you can read it in the car."

"Death Valley?!? Did you lose out to Catherine again? Or did you do owe Grissom something?"

"Whatever man..." Warrick raised his hand to hit Nick on the back, "We're not going all the way there, just towards it" He turned to leave. "You coming? You better not get sick when you read that article. Hold it in or walk the rest of the way."

"Yeah, yeah..." Nick replied with a grin, "I'll clean the car if I do."

* * *

"People have no sense of empathy...dumping a body in the middle of the desert. That's just plain rude!" Greg complained as he and Sara walked down the corridor towards the carpark. Sara looked at the 5'10-tall man in disbelief. Both of them were assigned to a 911 call, stating that a hit-and-run just took place outside a supermarket. They were sent to process the scene. 

"Were they rude to victim or to Nick and Warrick? Besides, we're not the ones heading to the desert." Sara didn't really envy Nick and Warrick's position. It was the end of May. The temperature was reaching the mid-90s. The stiff breeze and low humidity would make the day pleasant where they're heading, but it wasn't the case for the two guys. They were heading towards the desert, a far cry from air-condition places and bodies of water.

Greg turned to face Sara, walking backward as they continued journey, "I'm complaining for the both of them. Anyway, has anyone ever told you that you look funny when you're annoyed?" Greg turned back without waiting for a reply, making Sara face his brown hair and blond highlights. Sara sighed. Just leave it to the juvenile CSI to make a walk to the carpark amusing. Grissom has been giving the easy cases to Greg since he recovered from his injuries. He had to beg Gil for this case, which he strongly objected as it involves a hit-and-run. He was worried that it may remind the young CSI about his split-second decision of running over one of the teenagers threatening the tourist. He only agreed when Sara offered to accompany Sanders with the case, but not without a stern warning.

"You know...the place has been alot noisier since you came back," Staring at the back of his head, Sara gave Greg her best impression of the evil eye, trying to burn an imaginary hole on his head. "You were quiet, bloody---"

"Don't forget rugged, tough, manly...So you like the tall", he slowed down to walk beside her, "strong," Greg flexed his arms and puffed his chest, "silent types?" He struck one pose after the other.

"Especially the silent types", she joked, as she got into the car, leaving Greg and his "fed-up" look outside. Maybe today will be a good day after all.

TBC

* * *

p.s: I apologise for any spelling or grammar mistakes. Hoped you guys enjoyed the first chapter. I'm just warming up alittle, trying to get characteristics of the CSIs right. In the next chapter, I'm going to write about the cases. Your comments are more than welcome. 


	2. REJECTED?

**Title: **To Hell with Love

**Rating**: Still T..I think.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own CSI or its characters. I'm just a fan

**Author's Note**: To necira, Mma63, SassySasha19, Myralee8, Thanks for your reviews. You guys made me smile :) I feel inspired to write more now. Oh..good job Myralee8 for spotting the quote, I was hoping someone would notice :)

* * *

**Chapter 2**

She wasn't looking directly at the camera; the dark spots of her eyes were looking slightly to the left of the little box she was in. It was as if she was thinking of something…of days at the beach, a good dream or even a promotion at the office. She was smiling, her mind in a place that held memories of better days. Her long dark hair was resting on her shoulders, hers fingers were interlocked with one another just a few inches below her chin. It was like she was playing with them when the photo was taken. She bears a face that you see every day on you way to work, on a subway or in a café. You'll want to get to know her if you had the chance, she seems friendly enough. But just as that picture spoke thousand words to you, another box just below it tells you the opposite. She wasn't in it, yet you know she's there. In that dull box was a blur image of a yellow tape, the backs of men in uniform and white cloth that barely covered her. All the world had to say about her and her ending existence was…

**Woman Found Dead in Alley Way**

_The body of a woman has been found in an alleyway. Two teenagers stumbled onto the body near Elm Ave and Poplar Ave. The incident happened two weeks ago on a Saturday afternoon; major newspapers and broadcasters were given the permission to release this information relating to this case just yesterday. The LVPD are requesting the public for any information in regards to the case. _

_The woman was identified as Lisa Reid. Before she was found, Reid was among the hundreds of people that were missing in Las Vegas. A representative from Missing Persons unit had confirmed her identify after comparing her from a picture they had in their department. She has been reported missing two months ago by her landlord. Her family is currently residing in the UK and could not be reached for an interview. _

_Police speculated that the cause of death was a suicide. The body was located within arms-length of the nearest building. The coroner said that there was massive internal bleeding and signs of abuse. Other injuries include cuts on the arms and legs that may or may not be caused by an attacker. It is unknown if the victim suffers from depression. No suspect has been found and there are no new leads in the case. _

_Sources say that they get one or two cases such as this every year. It has yet to be determined whether they're related. If you have any information, call Crime Stoppers at 365-5…._

* * *

"I still don't understand why we have to take my car." Nick said as he read the last line of the article. "It's not like it would make any difference---". 

"Oh yes it does", Warrick replied as he controlled the black Chevrolet SUV with ease.

Nick looked up from the newspaper, stared at Warrick, and looked back at the article again, "Its not like I get sick that easy. Where are we anyways?"

"Close— about a few minutes more". Warrick didn't keep his eyes of the road. It was easy to get lost out here in the desert, or in Vegas itself. He remembered Catherine telling him about the time she got lost with Sara on their way to a mini mart crime scene. The last thing he'll ever want is to be stranded in the desert, with only Nick's newspaper for entertainment. Besides, he'll most probably be the one to throw up. Warrick can't read while he's in a car.

Nick read the article again. He was extremely curious about it. As far as he knows, it seems like your average, standard suicide case. But…..newspapers can be unreliable. Reporters aren't always accurate. Sometimes they exaggerate too much, most of the time they leave important information out. What made Sara take interest in this article? Does she empathise with the victim? It's bad enough to live alone, worse to die alone in a place like this. Sara never did like crimes involving abuse. He looked at the woman's picture again, thought for abit, and decided to ask Robbins about it. There was a high possibility that he was the one who processed Lisa Reid's body, if not, Nick was sure some other coroner would tell him about it.

The car slowed down, "We're here." Warrick said. They arrived at the site and Warrick parked near the other officers' car. In front of them, Brass was talking to a man wearing a plain white shirt. Brass signalled for them to come over.

"We're not at Death Valley." Nick looked around as he reached into the back of the car for his kit. They were on Route 160, just a little further from Pahrump Road. They were nowhere near Death Valley. Warrick smiled at Nick, "That was the only way I could get you to leave the break room. Thanks to that, you left the room faster than you normally do." Nick handed Warrick his kit, shoving it towards his gut. Secretly, he was thankful that they didn't have to travel all the way to Death Valley.

Brass swiped the sweat off his brow, "The guy was making his back to Las Vegas from Pahrump. Saw a body on the side of the road."

They took a look at the body. The woman was of medium stature, in her late-20s. She was lying face up on the desert floor, facing away from the three men. Her right arm was across her chest while her left was bended at the elbow, palm facing up. Warrick started photographing the body while Nick did an evaluation of the area.

"There's no skid marks," Nick stoop down to touch the sun-baked tar. "You would think that whoever did this would leave in a hurry."

"Any tire treads or shoe prints?" Warrick asked, his eyes still through the camera.

"I doubt we could get any shoe prints off the desert floor--- As for tire treads…" Nick fought the glare of the sun to look for the end of the Route 160, "lots of cars have drove pass, it'll be impossible to get a good, solid print. Get anything off the body?"

"She's a mess. Take a look." Warrick said as he took a picture of the woman's legs. The body was a terrible sight. The woman was dress in a sports bra and board shorts. She looked as if she was planning to go to the beach or workout at the gym. There were trails of sun-dried blood coming from her nose, mouth and ears, forming a network of crimson lanes on her cheeks and neck. Her forehead was caked with a mixture of sweat, blood and hair. Her body had different shades of black, blue, green, yellow, red, purple and pink, consistent with bruises inflicted at different times. The arms and legs had bruises too, except for the fact that they also had cuts of different striation-like formations. Nick moved over to get a closer look of her face. The woman's open eyes showed a blank, glassy stare. There was nothing peaceful about it.

"Bad place and time to go for a jog." Brass looked at the body sympathetically, "What is the world coming to? Can we all just get along without killing one another?"

"Well Brass, humans are capable of anything." Nick looked at the body from head to toe, toe to head. Nothing surprises him anymore. He saw the wavy image of the coroner's van approaching as he stood up. "Got everything you need?"

"Almost. Help me lift her right arm." Warrick positioned himself to a comfortable position to photograph the rest of the body. With great care, Nick held the woman's wrist and elbow, lifting it in such a way that her fingers point to the sky.

Nick watches as the coroner's van arrived and tries to back up to the spot behind his car. "David's here…I'm sure he going to complain about this heat—" Nick turned to face Warrick's puzzled frown.

"What on earth—?" Warrick exclaimed, taking a closer look at the woman's arm. Nick tilted his head to see what Warrick was looking at. The underside of the woman's right arm had a set of deep cuts on it, extending from her wrist to the end of her forearm. The ends of each cut were linked to another, forming an untidy string of capital letters. Together, the semi-dried red lines formed the word:

**REJECTED

* * *

**

It was close to noon when Greg and Sara drove up to the crime scene. "Can you imagine working in a place like this?" Greg asked as he turned the car into a parking spot.

"I think it's peaceful. I always wondered what it would be like working in a supermart. You know…working in the service industry."

"Peaceful? I think it's boring." Greg turned the engine once he park the car. "Plus, crime rates are higher in these areas. Robberies, theft, hit and run…."

Sara smiled, "I guess you right." Greg didn't know if he had offended Sara or not. He wanted to say something but the state trooper at the scene approached them.

"Thanks for coming. Hit and run, this man witnessed the crime." He looked at his notes, "James Manx, a clerk working at the supermarket." Greg looked at the officer. He had a tag with the word "Spencer" on it.

"Officer Spencer, did you touch anything?" Sara obviously knew him. He was one of the regular troopers in the state that aided the CSIs in their investigation.

Spencer smiled, "Fourteen years as a state trooper. I think I know how to secure a crime scene without contaminating the evidence…besides, there's no point in this case---"

"What do you mean?" Greg asked as Sara walked towards the site.

"The victim's not even human…." The officer continued talking to Greg. Sara stoop down next to the victim. His legs were broken and breathing was laboured. She heard the faded voice of the officer, "We have already have a suspect, but he denies any involvement. That where you come in…"

"Thanks." A shadow loomed over her. "Cat?"

"Dog." She replied Greg. The golden retriever's once shiny coat had blood spatter on it. Its chest was rising and falling in an irregular pattern. Sara stroked its head. She alway had a soft spot for animals. Greg looked at Sara before taking it upon himself to question the suspect. Sara went to look for the clerk.

Within less than half an hour, the suspect confessed and was charged with animal abuse. The dog was put out of its misery and the case was closed. Greg was putting his kit in the car as he saw Sara walking out of the store.

"What'd you got there?"

Sara lifted her merchandise as she walked towards him. "I got you a sandwich, thought you might be hungry."

Greg smiled. He walked towards her and looked at the rest of the contents in her bag."Sandwich, sandwich, yogurt...and a microwave burrito?"

"I bought that for Nick. He likes his junk food with radiation." She replied, "Let's head back to the lab, we're done here."

* * *

He watched as they drove out of the car park and towards the direction of the lab. He starts scribbling some notes on his worn-out note pad. Just before putting it away, he wrote: 

_NSGGGSSSSCCWWBJB?_

TBC

* * *

What do you guys think? Too long? Too short? Too boring? 

I'm already thinking of what to write for the next chapter. While waiting, try to find out what the string of letters mean. Its quite easy.

Please review :)


	3. Another body found

**Title: **To Hell with Love

**Rating**: (T)

**Disclaimer**: I do not own CSI or its characters. I'm just a fan

**Author's Note**: A big "thank you" goes out to all who reviewed. Each and every one of you fuelled my thoughts.

* * *

**Chapter 3**

Catherine and Grissom were working on a case together. A body was found under a one of Las Vegas's busy expressways. A passer-by filed a complaint after detecting a pungent scent of decomposition. The police did a search of the area, expecting to find a dead animal or a homeless person. After some time, they found a person, but by the looks of it, she wasn't homeless. She looked like she's been dead for about 3 weeks and any evidence at the scene were compromised or non-existent. But thanks to the 4 weeks of 100-degree days and zero percent humidity, the body did not disintegrated badly.

The body was now on the table. Grissom started to take pictures, while Catherine tried to scrape the undersurface of the loose, damaged nails. When a person has been dead for 3 weeks, the skin, hair and nails are so loose that they're easily pulled off the corpse.

"I got blood and skin under the nail, not sure if it's the victim's or her attacker. I'll send it to DNA." Catherine said as she folded the piece of paper containing the debris and bagged it.

She looked up at Grissom thoughtfully. "Our Jane Doe was dump under a busy expressway, in close proximity to dozens of homeless people, and nobody reported her?"

"People with cars have places to go, the homeless people… they presumed that she's asleep. I guess it's hard to smell decomposition when you're homeless.

Catherine smiled. "She close to mummification but not mummified. Her body has already undergone rigor mortis, it would be hard to bend the body without breaking something." The stiffen body showed Grissom and Catherine the position of their Jane Doe at the time of death. She was lying on her right side, her head on her bended arm. Her left hand was cupping her left ear, as if it was protecting her face. It would be hard for the CSIs to get dental impressions without breaking the arm off. Both legs were bended, left over right and from what they can tell, she was wearing a sleeveless top and denim shorts.

"I think we done all that we can, lets send her to the coroners." Grissom said as he placed a tag on the body's toe and headed towards the autopsy room.

* * *

Nick and Warrick walked into the autopsy room, the woman in the desert was out on the table before them. Robbins was standing beside the body, looking at his set of notes to report his findings to them. 

"There are no bullet wounds, that rules out shooting," Robbins began, "Sexual assault kit was positive. She has puncture wounds on forearm." He pointed to her arm. It had holes that were most likely caused by a syringe. "X-ray shown multiple fractures of the fingers, hands, ribs, legs and feet."

"A classic case of being beaten to death." Warrick surveyed the body. "Whoever did this to her must be either angry or insane."

"Well, not angry enough to cause any real damage, not insane enough to not know where to hit." Nick and Warrick looked at him with confusion as Robbins cleared his throat. "The fractures are minor, not serious enough to require immediate medical attention. But definitely serious enough to hurt like hell." Robbins pointed towards her head, "Her face showed signs of trauma, but not enough to be the cause of death. The attacker may have broke a few ribs and bruised the organs, but that didn't cause any serious internal bleeding."

Nick was puzzled, "So what you're saying, she didn't die from these injuries?" Robbins nodded. "Then, what's the cause of death?"

Robbins handled Nick a clip board, "She drowned. There were evidence of fluid in her lungs and she asphyxiated."

"How could you drown in the desert?" Warrick asked. Nick looked at the clipboard. He recalled a similar case like this. He began to explain to Warrick and Robbins about the death of a hiker who drowned due to heavy rains while in Diablo Canyon.

"Did it rain anytime in the last 2 weeks or so? Nick looked up from the clipboard.

"I thought of something like that. If you remembered, David was the one who processed that hiker's body long ago. The samples that we got from the nearest bodies of water… none of them match. And besides that, I checked with the national weather service, the area where the vic was found--- hardly any rain for the pass few weeks."

"So, whoever did this drowned her, and then dump the body in the middle of the desert." Warrick concluded. "What about the word carved onto her forearm? Did she get that before or after he drowned her?"

"After--- Apparently your killer likes people who can breathe underwater." Robbins joked, only to have Nick and Warrick stare back at him. "Erm--- there were indications that your killer tried to resuscitate her." He pointed the area near the woman's right collarbone and the left side of her body, near the ribs. "Those are minor defibrillator burns. Also, I noticed that the areas of the rib closest to the sternum are cracked. That… may be due to repeated CPR."

"Maybe it wasn't his intention to kill her. An accident, maybe?" Nick asked. "Do you have anything else for us? Stomach contents? Fingernail scrapings?"

"Stomach's empty. Here's the scraping from the toenails and fingernails…" Robbins gave them a small envelope and a bag, " …and clothes. The rest of the body's clean. I'll let you know if I find anything else."

"Thanks." Both the men walked out of the autopsy room. "Not much to go on… this guy's either smart or careful." Warrick said has he walked alittle ahead of Nick. "All those injuries and signs of abuse---"

_Signs of abuse… the article_!

"Hey Rick, you go on ahead. I need to talk to Robbins for a bit." Warrick nodded and said he'll call if he gets anything. Nick replied with a thumbs-up before walking through the doors of the autopsy room.

"Hey doc' ", I need to ask you something…"

* * *

Sara was at her desk finishing up some paperwork. The day was a slow one. Apart from the hit-and-run case, they have been called to other minor felonies like car theft, shoplifting and attempt arson. She sighed at the stupidity of these "criminals". The car thief broken into his ex-wife's car to get back at her, a teenager was too embarrass to purchase a packet of condoms from a local store, and a jealous boyfriend who threw a Molotov Cocktail at a closed window, only to have it bounced back, setting himself on fire. They didn't need the CSIs for that, but according to protocol, they had to be there. By the time they were done, it was close to evening. 

Sara looked up as she heard a knock on the door.

"Busy?"

She shook her head, "Not so much. Just finishing up on some paper work."

"I'm sorry that I had to assign you to the minor cases. I didn't think Greg was ready." Grissom said. He was still standing by the door.

"That's fine." Sara replied, smiling at the stack of paperwork instead of Grissom. She wasn't mad at him, she didn't mind hanging out with Greg. She just felt drained after not sleeping well for 2 days. "How are your cases?"

"There was a body found under an expressway. The woman has been there for 3 weeks. Her name was Cindy Kiske. We managed to identify her through her dental records. She had been missing for about a month now. Cause of death was cardiac arrest, most likely due to starvation. She had a mild heart condition and may have been suffering from depression."

"What made you say that?" Sara asked, suddenly interested in the case.

"There were cuts on her arms that could be self-inflicted. On her right thigh, there seems to be a word cut onto her skin. Sadly, she has been dead for so long, her skin has degenerated too badly to make up what it is." Grissom tried to hide the fact that X-ray showed signs of abuse. He did not want to upset Sara.

Sara felt sorry for the woman. After hearing what Grissom had to say, she was glad to have the simple cases. There are times during cases where she tries to distance herself from her emotions, but she still feels it. She even loses sleep over it. She despised herself for that. "Have you told her family yet?"

"Yes we did, her family's driving down from Utah."

Sara nodded her head slowly. She didn't really want to think about anything right now. She decided to change the subject.

"So, have you packed yet?" Grissom was leaving Las Vegas for a month on sabbatical to teach. He told each member of the team quite some time ago. Nick thinks that Grissom won't be coming back. Catherine joked that Ecklie must have pulled some strings to get rid of him.

"I have packed a few things."

Sara's looked up from her stack of paper work, but instead of looking at his face, she looked down to his feet. "Okay…I'll see you when you get back." She couldn't help but show a bit of mixed emotions on her face.

"Sara," Grissom said when he noticed the reaction on her face, "If you get the chance… don't wait for me." He studied her for a moment before continuing. "Just to let you know, I won't hold it against you. Don't wait for me, Sara. I'll see you soon." And on that note, he left.

Sara looked at the foot of the door till Grissom's shadow was obstructed from view.

"I'll try." She whispered sadly before continuing her paperwork.

TBC

* * *

_At first, I wrote a really long chapter, but I thought it was too much. So I made it into 2 chapters. Hope you guys don't mind. Let me know what you think of chapter 3 k. Reviews cheer me up. I'll post chapter 4 in a minute :)_

_P.S Sorry GSR fans. I preferred Grissom and Sara to have a student/mentor relationship. Have mercy._


	4. Two shots fired

**Title: **To Hell with Love

**Rating**: Still (T)

**Disclaimer**: I do not own CSI or its characters. I'm just a fan

**Author's Note**: Here's Chapter 4 :) I hope you have written a review Chapter 3. I really would like to know what you think about it.

**

* * *

Chapter 4 **

"About time… I just got the DNA results for what we got under her nails--- get this…It's a match to our Jane Doe. Her attacker must have either cleaned her or she didn't touch him at all." Warrick said to Nick as he walked through the door.

"Maybe she couldn't--- take a look." Nick pointed at the woman's wrist. There was evidence that she was in restraints. The skin around her wrist was raw and blistered. "Rope?"

"Maybe… there are many ways to tie people down." Warrick's thoughts were interrupted just as the computer made a sound. He had ran the prints of their Jane Doe through AFIS not too long ago… the computer found a match.

"Bridgette Freeman, 29." Nick announced as he looked over Warrick's shoulder. "She committed a crime?"

"Department of Motor Vehicles records. It's regulation for the company to take their drivers' prints."

"You know---" Nick pause for a second. "I was talking to Robbins regarding a case, I think they might be related." Nick pulled out the newspaper article from his pocket and a file that was in his hand since he came through the door. "Robbins gave me this case file, David and another coroner processed this lady's body." He pointed to the picture of Lisa Reid. "There were a lot of information left out in the newspaper."

Warrick took a glance. There were a lot of similarities present in the cases. The bruises were caused prior to the fall. She had obvious bruising on her wrist. Sexual assault kit was positive. It was reported that she could have been dead before the fall, but the damage to her body was so severe that it was impossible to determine what was cause of death. Therefore, it was ruled as a suicide. There was another detail that stood out; on her stomach were the faint scars that had the letters -- **R, J, E, T**.

"According to this, there were other letters but they were not visible enough to be determined. But I guess it's obvious what the word is."

"I asked David about the scars," Nick said, "He told me that they assumed it was self-inflicted. There were evidence that told us that she was on antidepressants--- they thought she could have cut herself during her depressive episodes. The cuts were deep but were almost healing at the time of her death."

"I guess it's not a suicide after all. Now, we're looking at two homicides and one killer."

* * *

Greg was walking towards the room Sara was in. He had made her an Origami Crane to thank her for accompanying him, as well as to cheer her up. He noticed how sad she looked when they handled the hit-and-run case. He also saw the annoyed look of hers when they were called to various scenes where some petty crimes took placed. He knew something was bothering her, but he can't put his finger on it. He thought that she might need someone to talk to. 

Sara was still buried in paperwork when he got there. The heap was smaller than when Grissom showed up but there was still a lot for her to do. Then again, she would rather do this than nothing at all.

Greg cleared his throat to catch her attention. "Thought you might be in here. How's it going?" Greg pointed to the stack that laid before her.

"Boring… almost done though." She put her pen down and sighed. "Greg… I'm sorry that we didn't get the major cases. I know how it feels when you want to be involved in cases that would make a difference in someone's life--- Your first case didn't even involve a human victim. Don't be discouraged. You'll get the bigger cases in no time." She smiled as she ended her sentence.

Greg smirked. He did feel disappointed when the others felt like he wasn't ready to be in the field. It was bad enough when his parents forbade him to participate in sports activities as a kid, but to have the need to feel protected by the people he works with, Greg couldn't help but feel useless. It seems that only Sara understood what he's feeling. Maybe because she felt the same way when she was suspended for blowing up at Catherine and Ecklie.

"Here… for you." He placed the Origami Crane on the table in front of her. "Want to go out for supper?" Sara was shocked. She looked at her watch… it was close to 10pm. She didn't expect time to fly by so fast. Greg suggested a time and place they could go.

"Sure… I'll be there." She replied. She was taking the day off tomorrow anyway. Grissom encouraged her to.

Greg turned to leave. "Today wasn't a complete waste of time--- I got to hang out with you." He turned back to smile at her before walking off.

* * *

"We better call it a day." Nick rubbed his tired eyes with his index finger and thumb. "We not getting anywhere." Warrick agreed as both men stood up and walked towards the locker room. The body was clean, there were no DNA found that could link anyone to the crime. Both the women went missing for weeks before their time of death. Nick commented that the killer must be a pro if there were so little evidence. 

As they walked towards the door leading to the locker room, Nick noticed Catherine and Sara were sitting on the bench, talking to each other. Catherine's back was facing towards the door while Sara was facing the lockers. Throughout they're working careers, Sara and Catherine both had a friendly love/snipe relationship and Nick was curious to find out which was it this time.

"…You know you can talk to me anytime…" Nick managed to eavesdrop into what Catherine was saying.

"I always do. Thanks Cath." He managed to catch Sara smiling at Catherine before both of them stood up to opened their respective lockers.

Warrick noticed Nick's behaviour. He knew that Nick had a soft spot for Sara. He wasn't sure whether it was curiosity or a "big brother" thing. They couldn't be more opposite; Sara was driven and aggressive, while Nick was thoughtful and calm. Maybe it was respect and admiration that Nick had for Sara, the same way he had for Catherine. He decided to push the issue a bit.

"How long are you going to wait?" He whispered loud enough for Nick but too soft for Catherine and Sara to notice. Nick give Warrick a bewildered look and was about to protest before Warrick cut him off. "Give me some credit--- I can read people, that's why I know how all the games are played in Las Vegas."

"When the time is right and when it's meant to be…don't you have something else to think about?" he tilted his head, referring to Catherine.

"Whoa. Don't turn the tables on me--- I just respect her, that's all."

"And that's the same with me and Sara." Nick replied, leaving Warrick to think about what he said.

* * *

Within a few minutes, Sara and Nick walked out of the building. Warrick and Catherine had already left. Catherine had to return home to Lindsey, while Warrick had to settle things with Tina. They said their good byes and went on their separate ways, leaving Nick and Sara behind. 

The weather at night was a big contrast to what they had in the day. The air was cold. It was about 70 degrees and it was alittle windy. The stars above them shone through the holes in the sky, like a thousand eyes peering through the veil of the night, watching the 2 CSIs as they made their way across the car park, talking about their day.

Nick walked Sara to her car, "So, want to go for a drink? I'm buying." Nick put his hands in his pockets. His black shirt, together with his thin black leather jacket wasn't enough to protect him from rejection. But he decided to risk it anyways.

Sara turned towards him, "You're buying because it's only me and you. How come you never offer that when we're out with the gang?"

Nick laughed, "Too expensive. Have you seen Greg drink? It's like he's trying to impress you---."

"...Or you guys," she smiled, "You're too tough on him. Cut him some slack."

"So is that a yes?" Nick looked at Sara for a moment. She was wearing a brown jacket over her black sleeveless top and a dark pair of jeans that she normally wears. She looked like as if she lost weight. Some cases in the pass few weeks had been tough on her. Thank God she got paired up with Greg today. She can't afford to lose anymore sleep. Nick wanted to say something about that, but he decided against it.

"I'm sorry Nick, I got to make a rain check. I'm having supper with Greg tonight… You can come along if you like, I don't think he'll mind." She told him the place where they were going.

"It's ok." Nick replied, a little disappointed. Sara was about to get into her car.

"Sara, the place is not that far off. I could walk you there…"

Sara looked at the time. She had to meet Greg in about half an hour, but it would take less than 20 minutes if they took the shortcuts between the buildings. After weighting the odds, she agreed. She felt bad not being able to hang out with Nick anyway.

* * *

"I read your newspaper article," Nick told Sara as they were walking through one of the alleyways. The place was quite deserted, with only the streetlights to keep them company. "…I asked Robbins about it. Warrick and I are working on a case that is almost similar to it. I think they're related. Do you remember which case you worked on previously?" 

"I'm not too sure, it was a long time ago. A woman was almost abducted by……"

_

* * *

He followed them. Stalked them. He has his sights on one of them. He needed that one. But, which one was it? He aimed his gun…_

* * *

"That sounds like a failure in the killer's part… Any suspects?"

"None. The case was closed within the week. We didn't have any leads to go on…"

_

* * *

With only the stars as their witness, he fired one shot and then another… _

TBC

* * *

_So...the drama starts here. Tell me what you think of it. Were the first few chapters too boring? Sorry for any grammar or spelling mistakes :) _

_Hope you're not too lost in the story. If you don't understand what's going on, please let me know :) I'll be more than happy to answer (without spoilers, of course)_


	5. The 911 Call

**Title: **To Hell with Love

**Rating**: Still (T)

**Disclaimer**: I do not own CSI or its characters. I'm just a fan

**Author's Note**: A big "HI" goes out to the person reading this. Thanks for all your reviews. This is going to be a long and (maybe) confusing chapter. It took me awhile to plan and write it out. Hope you'll like it.

* * *

**Chapter 5**

**_911 Operator_ **_(Woman's voice):_ 9-1-1. State your emergency.

**_Voice_** _(Gasping):_ Please help…. need help.

**_911 Operator_**: I can't hear you. You'll have to speak up.

_**Voice**:_ (_Dragging footsteps are heard)_ something's wrong…we… _(pause)_

**_911 Operator_**: Ok, sir, stay with me--- Our system is not compatible with your cellular phone. Could you tell us where you're calling from?

**_Voice_**: _(Clears throat)_ We're in an alley between…_(Inaudible)_

**_911 Operator_**: Sir, Can you see a street sign?

_**Voice**:_ _(Whispering)_…near…the…crime lab

**_911 Operator_**: Las Vegas Crime Lab?

**_Voice_**: _(Whispering)_ Someone's here… (_A distant sound of a car engine is heard in the background)_

**_911 Operator_**: Ok, stay calm --- Is the person able to provide assistance?

_**Voice**:_ _(Inaudible)_

**_911 Operator_**: _(Concerned)_ Sir, is the person at the scene able to help you?

**_Voice_**: _(Whispering)_ I'm…not sure…

**_911 Operator_**: Ok …Stay with me --- Could you tell me your name?

_(The distant sounds of footsteps is heard, followed by the sound of a phone being dragged across the floor)_

**_Voice_**: _(Distant, barely audible)_ Wait…no… _(pause)_…come back! (_Some shuffling is heard)_

**_911 Operator_**: Sir? --- Help is on the way--- stay on the phone for me, ok?

**_Voice_**: _(Distant, barely audible)_ help…Sara…. (_A collapsed is heard)_

_**911 Operator**:_ Sir? Stay with me…Sir?

**_Voice_**: _(No answer)_

_**- End of Phone Call -**_

Warrick buried his face in his hands. He had been listening to the small micro-cassette recorder for the umpteenth time. He felt useless. All his experience of being an audio/visual analyst were of no help and invaluable. _Who was there that night? What kind of car was that person driving? Why did this happen? _He took the tape out of the recorder and placed it into a translucent bag. He told himself that he would listen to it again tomorrow, the day after and the day after that until he gets to the bottom of it. He had to find out who was responsible. He gathered all the evidence and put them in a box. The box was barely half-full, and yet it was almost half-empty. He walked across the room and placed it on the table.

------

"_Warrick? It's Grissom. Something has happen. I need you here this very minute."_

"_Grissom? What's wrong? What happened?" Warrick looked at his watch. It was about close to midnight. _

_"There has been an incident." Grissom said quickly. "Emergency dispatch has found a body near one of the buildings. About 10 minutes from the crime lab." He held an unsteady pause. "They think it might be Nick. Could you go to Desert Palms hospital to see if it's him?"_

_"What?! Is he alright?"_

_"I don't know. They won't tell me anything. I was told to send someone to the hospital to verify if it's the right person. I'm sending you. If it is Nick, I'll need you to get a statement from him about what happened. Can you do that?"_

_"Erm--- sure. I'll be there."_

_"Oh…And Warrick?"_

_"Yeah?"_

_"Take Greg with you…"_

_"Ok…Call you later."_

------

He stared at the box on the table, lifting his hand to touch its pointy edges and its smooth surfaces. He glided his hand onto the side of the box, feeling the impressions of words and numbers that were written on it. The date felt and looked unreal. He can't believe that a year and a half had already passed since that 911 call was made…

...and tomorrow will be another day.

* * *

Greg was sitting in the break room, flipping through various pieces of paper, trying to appear busy as the long day dragged on. His once jovial spirit has been diminished into a tiny spark, occasionally appearing to encourage those around him. He tries, he really does… but even he knows that the only way for the others to be truly happy is to solve the case. 

_But… what case? There was nothing. No more evidence, No suspect, No motive, a dead end._

Greg sighed and stood up from his chair. He walked towards the table to get a cup of coffee. The break room didn't have the best coffee in the world but it does calm him down, with its bitter taste and warm petrol-textured feeling. Greg turned and leaned against the cabinet. On the wall across of him, there were several law-enforcement posters held up with double-sided tape, happy pictures of the CSIs pinned up against a board and yellow newspaper clippings from long ago. Right in the middle of all the mess, Greg pinned the tail of his Origami Crane next to a picture of a person he once knew.

"Here's to you, Sara Sidle." He raised his cup of coffee to give an imaginary toast to a long-lost friend.

_------_

_He was waiting at the diner. She had promised to come; she had agreed to have supper with him that night. He had already drunk his 20th cup of water and had been to the bathroom 3 times. He tried calling her, but he kept getting her voice mail on every try. He had already left her several messages. Many thoughts were forming in his mind._

_Did she forget? Was she hanging out with someone else? Did something happen to her? _

"_No Greg, don't be so dramatic… maybe she just forgot." He told himself softly as he left a tip on the table and headed home. _

------

"Sorry I didn't wait for you." Greg said as he stared into his cup. The dark black liquid was whirling around near the mouth of it. He felt broken that night, stood up by a person he never had the guts to ask out. Initially, he blamed Sara for his hurt, then himself for opening up his heart to someone, only to have her ignore and trample over it. But then, he found out that it wasn't her fault. Something did happen to her and he wasn't there to protect her. Greg tried to stop the tears from flowing out of his eyes. Memories of that day came without warning.

_**Greg**: You should process the scene now; me later._

_**Sara**: I came here for you, Greg._

"I'm sorry I didn't come for you…" He turned his head to looked away from her picture, wondering whether the others feel the same way he does.

* * *

Catherine stood by the door of Gil's office. He was looking at the dried specimen of a _Blue Morpho_. The butterfly had metallic blue wings, with black outlines around each of them. The light seems to reflect each and every cell that the butterfly possessed. It was beautiful. Catherine cleared her throat. 

"How are you doing?"

Gil looked up, his glasses at the tip of his nose. Just two days ago, Ecklie told the team to throw out the case and hand it to the LVPD, since they have a unit that specialises in Missing Persons. The team wasn't too happy about it. During the meeting, things almost turned violent when Ecklie opened his mouth to say that they should not even expect to find anyone alive. There was nothing they could do. Grissom had to hold everyone back, even though he, himself, wanted to give Ecklie a piece of his mind. He didn't want anyone to get suspended over this. He needed everyone… or at least, those that were still around.

"Aristotle once said… _anyone can become angry. That is easy. But to be angry with the right person, to the right degree, at the right time, for the right purpose and in the right way—that is not easy_."

Catherine smiled. She understood what Grissom was saying. Ecklie's not the one they should be mad at. It was that son-of-a-bitch who took their friend away. In her heart, she wished that they could find their friend alive. But in all her years as a CSI, she knew that there was a very high chance that they were looking for a dead body. Despite that, she was clinging on to that hope. That small, little, unrealistic hope…

------

_Catherine and Grissom were the first ones at the scene. One of the emergency personnel called Grissom after Nick's phone was found several meters away from his body. According to the call history, Grissom was the second last person Nick called. The last number dialled was the 911 call. Grissom remembered Nick calling him to give him an update on his case. The police officers at the scene were unable to determine whether it was Nick that they found as they could not find a wallet or an ID on him. They did tell Grissom that they were sending him to Desert Palm hospital to get checked out._

_Grissom and Catherine did a search of the area for any evidence. They managed to find Nick's wallet hidden among some garbage and debris. There was a small amount of blood at the scene. Catherine took a swab and confirmed that it was human blood. She bagged some to send it to the DNA lab for identification. Other than that, there was nothing. When everything was cleared up the next day, Grissom left for his sabbatical, leaving Catherine in charge. The team did not even know there was another person with Nick that night… they assumed that he was the only one in the alley._

_Until they got the DNA results…_

------

As Catherine turned to leave, she asked, "Is there a chance…" She thought for a moment, "Do we give up?"

Grissom shrugged, turning his focus on the blue butterfly.

* * *

------

_He was walking with her. The weather was cold; the wind blew between the buildings, intentionally aiming at them. They were walking, talking, and minding their own business. _

_(Why did that person have to do this?)_

_Nick had his hands in his pockets, while Sara had her hands around his left arm. After noticing how cold she was, Nick had offered his arm to Sara to warm her freezing hands. Sara declined at first, but after a gust of wind threaten to turn her fingers blue, she did it, feeling the warmth of Nick's arm and torso. _

"_That sounds like a failure in the killer's part… Any suspects?"_

"_None. The case was closed within the week. We didn't have any leads to go on…"_

_Sara suddenly stumbled forward, but she didn't fall. Nick managed to catch her._

"_Whoa--- hey, are you alright?" Nick asked with a concerned look in his eyes. _

_Sara looked disoriented, "It felt as if … something hit me," Sara replied, using her left hand to feel the left side of her back. Her right hand was still hanging on to Nick's arm. _

"_Let me see---," Nick went behind Sara to see what was wrong. He looked at the area of her back where her hand was feeling around for the thing that was responsible for her discomfort. _

_Sara was beginning to feel faint. She couldn't focus and was starting to see blurred, doubled images around her. She closed her eyes and shook her head slightly, trying to clear her vision and mind. "Did you find anything?"_

"_What in the name of---" He pulled something out of her back, drawing a drop of blood along with it. "A tranquilliser dar---" Nick felt a sharp pain on his back. He immediately turned around to see where it came from. He let go of Sara's hand and walked towards the end of the alley. He looked up to the buildings, his left, his right and straight-ahead. There was no one. _

"_Nick…" Sara whispered as she collapsed to the ground, falling onto her side. She tried her best to fight it, but the sedative was too strong. Nick called out to her, trying to keep her awake, while fighting the effects of the drug. But after several failed attempts, he took out his phone… _

"_9-1-1. State your emergency."_

_Nick felt giddy. His world was spinning, giving him a terrible, throbbing headache "Please help…. need help."_

"_I can't hear you. You'll have to speak up."_

_Nick dragged his lead-laden feet as he walked towards Sara's unconscious form. "Something's wrong…we…" A sharp electric current within Nick's head interrupted his thoughts._

"_Ok, sir, stay with me--- Our system is not compatible with your cellular phone. Could you tell us where you're calling from?"_

_His throat felt dry, as if all the moisture that he had within him was being sucked out into the surrounding air. Nick cleared his throat. "We're in an alley between…" He couldn't really remember where he was. He heard the operator say something, but he couldn't make it out. "…near…the…crime lab" Nick was beginning to lose his focus. He was seeing double. _

_The operator on the phone said something, but again, Nick couldn't hear what she was saying. He was about to ask her to repeat her question when he saw a black car pulling up at the mouth of the alleyway. "Someone's here…" He whispered as the car slowed to a halt. _

"_Ok, stay calm --- Is the person able to provide assistance?" The operator said. Nick was beginning to feel weak. He held his right hand to his heavy head; his feet felt like they were walking on quicksand. He fell to his knees. "Sir, is the person at the scene able to help you?" The operator rephrased her sentence, her voice radiating concern. _

"_I'm…not sure…" Nick managed to reach Sara's body after using up most of his energy. He tried to reach out to her, to hold her in his protective embrace, but his arms felt detached, having a mind of their own. When he tried to check her pulse, his hand touched her shoulder instead of her neck. When he tried to hug her, his arms uselessly grabbed the air._

"_Ok …Stay with me --- Could you tell me your name?"_

_What was his name? Nick thought extremely hard. Someone was coming up behind him, covering him with his shadow. Nick turned his head slowly, dropping his phone in the process. A man casually kicked his phone away. He was wearing black from head to toe and had a hood over his head… Nick couldn't see his face. But then again, Nick couldn't see anything clearly, not even the hand in front of him. The stranger took Nick's wallet out of his pocket and threw it towards the wall, discarding Nick's identity among the dirty trash and people's rejecting belongings. He looked at Nick for a second, like an artist admiring his work, before walking towards Sara's body. He lifted her arm over his shoulder and placed his arm behind her back. Once his other arm was under her knees, he lifted her up effortlessly, and started walking away from where Nick was, towards his car. _

"_Wait…no…" Nick fell onto his stomach. "…come back!" Using his last ounce of energy in his arms, he pulled himself towards the direction of the unknown man, trying to get to Sara. _

_He heard mumbling from a distance. The phone! Nick thought desperately. He needed to get help. He pushed his body up, stretching his neck as close as he can to the phone. Before Nick's world went black, he shouted… _

"_Help…Sara…." _

_------_

Nick woke up with a jolt, his body drenched with sweat. He sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. _Not again,_ Nick thought. Since that night, he has been reliving each and every moment of that horrifying moment in his dreams. Everyone said that it wasn't his fault; there was nothing he could have done. But Nick thought otherwise… In fact, he blamed himself everyday. And no one else can convince him otherwise...

Nick looked around; he must doze off in the lab again. He got up to walk towards the men's room to wash his face. On the way there, he stole a glance at a poster on the wall. The old, fragile piece of paper had a picture of a familiar face, with words neatly typed below it.

_MISSING_

_Name: Sara Sidle_

_Birth Date: 16 September 1971_

_Hair: Brown_

_Eyes: Brown_

_Height: 5 ft 7 in_

_Weight: 107lbs._

_Last Seen: Las Vegas, NV_

That poster was made a year and a half ago… Sara had not been heard from since.

TBC

* * *

Phew, that was tough for me. It's late and I'm running on caffeine (Can you tell?). 

I was trying to provide an inside look at what the CSIs were doing at the time of the incident. Hopefully this chapter made sense. Do leave a review, they encourage me and inspires me to write more.

Love ya all! zzZZzz


	6. 3 Kidnapped Victims

**Title: **To Hell with Love

**Rating**: Still (T)

**Disclaimer**: I do not own CSI or its characters. I'm just a fan

**Author's Note**: Hey all! Thanks again for all your reviews. I'm having alittle bit of writer's block. So go easy on me k. Hope this chapter won't be too boring for you all. I'm trying to tie some loose ends in my story.

* * *

**Chapter 6**

Conrad Ecklie was sitting in his office, pondering over decisions and thinking about choices. He leaned back and forth, turned side to side, listening to his black leather chair groan. Like the cow it used to be before someone killed it and turned it into a chair to suit his needs. On his desk to his right, Ecklie placed a box filled with evidence from long ago. The cases of Lisa Reid, Cindy Kiske and Bridgette Necker were calling out. Someone had presented new evidence that might help in the case.

Like Sara's abduction, their cases were never solved; their boxes were left on the shelf among the other cold cases, gathering dust as time went by. The media called the case "_The Rejected Killings_". As ridiculous as it may sound, that actually summed up what the CSIs have in regards to the crime. No one came forward with any new information and their relatives proceeded to bury or cremate the victims. It wasn't a heartless move in anyone's part; nobody saw or knew anything. The victims had been classified in the category of the unknown, and their killer is still out there, roaming free in the everyday, normal world where humans thrive.

"I have gather you all here today to discuss an important matter," Ecklie said, trying to fill the air with his superiority and position as he stood before the team. "As you know, being assistant director of the crime lab, I am allowed to assign different cases to each of you."

_Like we didn't know that already_, Greg thought, knowing that the others are thinking the same thing.

"I am reopening the cases of Lisa Reid, Cindy Kiske and Bridgette Necker," Ecklie looked at the files, stating their case numbers, reminding everyone that those were the unfortunate ones to have the word "REJECTED" carved somewhere on their bodies. "For a few months now, new evidence had been presented in regards to the case. Three women ages of 18, 24 and 26 were kidnapped by who we think is the person responsible for the killings. Each of them were taken at different times, the abduction lasting only 2 days without any ransoms or demands and the girls were released unharmed. We strongly believe that it's related to the case." He looked up at the team, feeling the pressure radiating out of their eyes. "Their names are in the file. Catherine, I would like you and Sofia to conduct an the interview with them." Ecklie handed Catherine the file, avoiding any eye contact with the furious CSIs.

"And you knew this for a few months now?" Grissom said, countering Ecklie's status with his own. "Why wait until now to tell us?"

Ecklie rolled his eyes, "Each of you had your hands full with other assignments. The case was put on hold for a few months. Now, I only want Catherine and Sofia on the case; the rest of you will have to carry on your other assignments until further notice. Is that clear?"

"Why not I take the interview?" Warrick asked, "I only have a burglary case to work on."

Ecklie looked at him and answered bluntly, "I assigned them because they are the only 2 women working here. The victims might relate better to them."

"We have 3 women working here, she's not gone yet…" Nick corrected Ecklie, clenching his jaw to prevent other colourful words from coming out of his mouth.

"Not this again, I don't have time for this. If it wasn't for you…" Ecklie said as he turned around. "You know as well as I do that she's already---" He sighed, " Just get on with the case." The team stared at the back of Ecklie's head, watching as the shiny bald spot reduced down to a little glow as it turned the corner. Warrick placed his hand onto Nick's shoulder, trying to offer a little comfort. Nick clenched both of his fists.

"I hate that guy." Nick whispered as he walked back to his room, thinking of the words that Ecklie left engraved in his memory.

_If it wasn't for you… _

_You know as well as I do that she's already… _

* * *

"Have you all been seeing your P.E.A.P Counsellors?" Grissom asked the group as they sat down in the break room to have lunch together. The CSIs were made to attend the Police Employee Assistance Program since Sara's abduction, as a way for them to cope with the tragic loss of their friend. Before she went missing, Sara also had attended PEAP counselling, and it helped her quite a bit. Grissom thought it would be best for the others as well, for them to unload the crippling burdens off their backs. 

"Yeah…" Greg was the first to answer. "I still think it's a dumb idea."

Warrick nodded in agreement. "I don't really like the idea of telling some psychologist about my life. I wonder how Sara does it."

The room became quiet for a while, with only the sound of teeth gnawing on solid food echoing around the room. Nick looked up, "Well… she always had been the strong one. Sara will hate it if we sit here sulking about her." He smiled at the memory of her. Warrick and Greg joined in the conversation, reminding each other about the time they caught Sara sleeping in the break room or how she reacted to a spit bucket; the things she did that made them laugh or the way she encourages them. As they were reliving the memories of better days, Grissom looked around at each member of his team.

Maybe they'll be okay after all…

* * *

_**Name:** Helena Kelly_

_**Age**: 26_

_**Kidnapped**: Mid June_

_**Notes**: Victim of spousal abuse, mild mental retardation_

Catherine was interviewing Helena Kelly, a 26-year-old woman who looked like she'd aged beyond her years. She was a frail woman who, according to the police records, is living in an apartment with her abusive boyfriend. _Sara would hate this_, Catherine thought as she looked at the woman with curiosity. She looked a little out of it, maybe a little crazy as well. Out of the three women who were kidnapped, she was the first one. The woman had already given her testimony to the police. In her written testimony, she was tied to a chair and left alone most of the time. She also said that she was blindfolded and had earplugs put into her ears, making her unable to see and hear what was going on around her.

"Ear-plugs?" Catherine said out loud as the woman repeated her testimony.

"Yes--- ear-plugs." Helena said with such confidence. "I couldn't see or hear anything."

"Ear-plugs?" At this moment, Catherine was face was filled with bewilderment, looking at her like she was a chicken with 3 legs. _What kind of kidnapper would put earplugs on the victim?_

"I did remember it was very hot, like I was in the middle of the desert. It was extremely dry as well… terrible weather." Helena said as she bit her nails.

------

_**Name:** Jean Hope_

_**Age**: 24_

_**Kidnapped**: Early August_

_**Notes**: Victim of rape three years ago._

Sofia and Catherine interviewed the second victim together. The 24-year-old wasn't as crazy as the previous woman, but she did seem more affected by what happened than all 3 women combined. She looked at the two women carefully, afraid that whatever she said would come back to haunt her.

"I wasn't blindfolded the whole time, only when he was letting me go --- I did not have any ear-plugs put on me…" She gave Catherine a very puzzled look, "Ear-plugs?! Seriously?" She broke into a smile. Catherine lifted her hand to dismiss the issue, unable to contain her own smile. Jean Hope was not stranger to interviews done by CSIs. She was a victim of rape a few years back but her stunning testimony lead to the conviction of whoever did it to her. She could remember every details and could describe them extremely well.

"… The room that I was held in--- it reminded me of a panic room. It had those steel doors that requires a security code to get it." She said. "I couldn't see his face, he had a ski mask on the whole time."

"Must have been hot for him." Sofia mentioned.

"I was kidnapped on the first day of August. The lowest temperature was 77 degrees. It wasn't too bad." Catherine urged her to continue. Jean closed her eyes, as if she was reliving the events in her mind. "I was tied to a chair and left in the middle of the room. There were some candles in the room but it was still dim. I couldn't see much. While in the room, I heard him talking to someone, but there was this ventilation shaft above, at the side of the room that was making a repeated "clanking sound". I could make out what was said. He didn't hurt me. He let me go after 2 days. The man drove me." Jean opened her eyes, appearing more relax than she did when she came in.

"Did you know where you were?"

"I was left at Pahrump Medical Centre. It took him about 45 minutes to get there."

_Finally, a place to search_, Sofia though. However, Pahrump is a very big place. The suspect could be anywhere.

"Thank you, that was very helpful," Catherine was glad that the interview wasn't a complete waste of time.

Jean was about to leave the room when she turned around. "I did see something written on the wall when I was being taken out of the room. I don't know if it was written in red paint or blood… but it said "**NO MAN SINNED**". I guess that man was trying to scare me…"

------

_**Name:** Jane Olin_

_**Age**: 18_

_**Kidnapped**: End October_

_**Notes**: 10 years in foster care, ran away from her foster parents twice last year. _

"I already told the cops everything I know, why don't you check with them?" An angry voice filled the air. That person obviously does not want to be there.

"Ok, calm down. Just start from the beginning." Sofia said, trying to gain control of the situation. She looked at her folder. _Jane Olin aged 18, foster child of the Hendersons, been in the system for 10 years…that explains the attitude_, Sofia thought, already dreading the interview.

"I didn't see anything. I was blindfolded most of the time." Jane Olin jabbed her finger on the table in front of her. she obviously had a strong dislike for the world she lived in. She leaned back onto her chair, back to her slouching position.

Sofia looked at her sympathetically, "Is that true?"

"Look, don't believe me? Fine. Just stop asking me these questions if you don't. My foster parents didn't even believe me when I told them I was kidnapped. They think that I was making up some phoney story to cover up some sort of a runaway plan." Jane sighed.

Sofia looked at her for a minute, understanding why the teenager was so hostile when it comes to talking about her kidnapping. "Why not you write down what happened? Or at least what you remembered." Sofia handed her a note pad. "If you testimony checks out, we'll believe what happened to you." She said, opening the door to leave the interview room.

"There is… one thing I remember--" Jane said. Sofia turned around, "When I was blindfolded, I was put in a room…with another person. We talked for a while. She didn't tell me her name, saying that our lives depends on what we said." She cleared her throat. "At first, she was saying all these encouraging words to calm me down, asking me if I was ok and all. Then, when the man was about to take me out of the room, she said "Pancho" 3 times. That really pissed the guy off. He went back in…I think he killed her…"

* * *

Grissom looked up as he heard a knock on the door. "May I come it?" 

"Sure, take a seat." Grissom said, pointing to the chair, indicating where the man should seat down. "What is this about?"

"As you know, I was assisting Sara's PEAP counsellor during her sessions…" The man showed Grissom his nametag. " Dr. Dennis Namon, psychologist, nice to meet you Mr. Grissom." He shook Grissom's hands. "I'm here to evaluate the progress of your team in regards to Sara's disappearance. I have already interviewed the rest of your team." The doctor clicked his pen and was ready to write. "Could we start from the beginning?" He scratched his dark brown hair before stating his questions…

------

About half an hour later, they were done. Grissom watched the fair-skinned psychologist write down the last few details of their conversation before leaving the room. He was about to get back to his work when Catherine came through the door.

"Grissom, I think we got something..."

* * *

"Nick, Warrick, a police helicopter has been patrolling the area between Las Vegas and Pahrump. They have found a residence in the middle of desert that needs checking out." Grissom said, "The location is near the place where you found the body of the woman involved in the "rejected killings". Brass is on the way there with 4 police officers and a warrant. Take the police helicopter and head there as soon as you can." 

"Sure Grissom" Nick said as he and Warrick grabbed their coats.

------

In less than an hour, they have arrived at the scene. The night was young, the temperature was cold and the area was dark. The December air was unfavourable and there were only 2 police cruisers to light their path. Brass placed his hands in his pockets, fighting the cold as he watched Nick and Warrick rappel down the police helicopter. Once they were on the ground, he waved to the pilot, allowing the pilot to leave the area.

"Hey Brass. Waited long?" Nick asked as he walked towards him.

"Nope, we drove, you guys flew… we arrived at around the same time." Brass said with a smile. "We're checked the perimeter. All clear. We decided to wait for you before going into the house."

"Thanks--- Ready?" Nick gave Warrick a nod. "LVPD, we have a warrant to search the area." Warrick knocked on the door. There was no answer. Warrick tried the doorknob… it was unlock.

The interior of the house was covered in darkness, with only the headlights of the police cruisers creeping in through the windows. Nick, Warrick and Brass took out their flashlight to survey the area. It wasn't a very big house. The living room was like any typical living room. There was a rug on the floor with a coffee table on top of it and a cosy couch next to a small shelf of monuments and paperweights. The dining area was close by, giving the house a homely feeling with its average cabinets and mini fridge. In the middle of the room was big bookshelf with not many books in it. Everything seems like it was where it's supposed to be. Brass managed to find a light switch and turned on the lights, blinding the poor CSIs along the way.

"Sorry," Brass said when Nick and Warrick stared at his direction. "Let's keep looking."

Nick headed for the study room, trying to be as quiet as possible. The door of the study was slightly ajar and there was a lighted candle on the table, making shadows dance within the room. Nick silently pointed the room to Warrick, drawing his gun. He pushed his hands against the door, opening it wider. From where he was, he could see a big oak table with its contents scattered on the surface. There was someone seated on a big black office chair behind the table. Nick could not see who it was as back of the chair was facing the door. The arms of the person were hanging on its sides, limp. The top of her head was leaning against the headrest, allowing the CSIs to see her brunette hair. There was blood on the floor. Nick walked closer to the mouth of the door, shining his flashlight into the dark abyss of a room. Something at the corner of the table caught his eye.

"Did you find anything?" Warrick whispered, walking towards the room. From a distance, he saw Nick holding a picture frame. He was staring at the picture and looking towards the person on the chair simultaneously. "What's wrong Nick?"

Nick was frozen, he didn't move. He didn't know what to do. Just as Warrick entered the room, he turned to face him, revealing a familiar picture to him…

"Sara?"

TBC

* * *

I thought Ecklie should have a part in this chapter. Thank you all for reading this. I hope you'll leave a review. Take care! 


	7. Sara?

**Author's Note**: A big smile for those reading this story and a big hug for all those who reviewed the previous chapter. Thank you. It took me a long time to write this chapter,even though its a short one. I had to cut and rewrite lots of stuff. I didn't want to make it too long, confusing or boring. Hope you'll enjoy it.

* * *

**Chapter 7**

_Can this be? All that hope we had…to find her alive… was it all for nothing?_

"What's wrong Nick?" Warrick's voice sounded foggy, like the way it did when Nick was in the glass coffin. Nick turned to face him, pointing the photo towards Warrick's direction. The photo that used to inspire hope now fills his heart with dread. He can't bear to look at it.

_No, no, no…_

"Sara?" Warrick looked at the photo and then towards the chair. The room was still dim. The only sources of light were from the lighted candle and the flashlights they were holding. The orange glow from the fire caused the shadowed objects to dance around; their wild, unstoppable spasms moving around the black chair, their hands touching the limp arms of the decease. Warrick shone his light towards the chair, scaring them off into the dark corners of the room.

_Sara… why is there a photo of Sara in this house?_

It was a candid shot of her. The photograph showed Sara walking across the car park, with her car keys in her hand. She was wearing her brown jacket over a black top and her dark pair of jeans, her scarf wrapped around her neck, keeping her warm. The picture was obviously taken at night. Nick looked at the date at the lower right hand corner of the photo. He recognized those numbers. The photo was taken on the same day that Nick and Sara were attacked. He looked took his eyes off the photo and looked towards the chair…

_Blood. There's so much blood. Could anyone survive, losing that much blood?_

"Nick, we don't know if it's her." Warrick said, using his own words for Nick to calm himself down. "I'm going to turn the chair around. Nick. Nick! Do you hear me? It may not be her!"

_We don't know if it's her… Sara… That can't be Sara. If it is…It's because of me--- my fault, my fault…_

"Nick! Snap out of it! I need you now!" Warrick grabbed Nick's thick, outer jacket and gave him a little shake. "I need you. The team needs you. Sara needs you! Do this for Sara…she may still alive."

Nick looked at Warrick in a daze before answering him. "Alright, I…I'm fine, I'm fine…" He took off his cap and scratched his head in desperate attempt to stimulate his brain. He wore his cap back on and placed the photo frame back onto the table. He didn't want to destroy the evidence by dropping it.

Just then, Brass and an officer walked towards them. "All clear, there's no one---"

Nick placed his index finger onto his lip, stopping Brass in the middle of this sentence. From where he was, Brass saw Warrick inching his way closer to the black chair while Nick was looking at the walls for any sign of a light switch. Brass instructed the officer next to him to stand his ground, both their hands on their guns.

Nick found the lights and switched it on just as Warrick turned the chair around…

_Oh Gosh…_

* * *

------

It's the month of December. The temperature has hit an all time low in Las Vegas. The weather itself was enough to cause death to the homeless and the careless. He sat in his car, sucking the life out of a cigarette and soaking in the moonlight as he watched everyone; little bugs meandering through a network of buildings and high skyscrapers, oblivious to the fact that there are people like them dying every day, at every moment. And maybe… just maybe, today will be no different.

He drove pass the place where it all happened. Dwelling in the memories of that successful night. For a while now, he had managed to avoid the punishments of dumping the rejects and dodging the law that was suppose to keep them safe. For more than a year, he had what he needed; he didn't reject that one. But now… he needed them. He needed them to fix what he broke. If death comes, oh well…but once broken has been mended, he has plans to bring it back to hell.

_They should be there by now_, he thought as he drew in his last breath of poisonous fumes. _I wondered whether they found the body yet._ He threw his dead cigarette out of the car; driving back to wherever he calls a home.

------

* * *

The body on the chair had no face. Her features were burnt beyond recognition, details melted together into a molten mess. The hair that made up her fringe had coiled and curled because of the heat, forming clumps of sticky brunette goo on her forehead. How did he manage to burn only her face? There were no other signs of burns anywhere else on her body. She did have a stab wound on her heart, indicating the cause of death. At least she died quickly… 

Warrick recoiled in horror. He wasn't expecting to see anything like this. "Oh Gosh…" He whispered as he placed his hand on his forehead, still trying to process what he's seeing. He looked towards Nick's direction, trying to make sense of this tragedy. Nick's pale face had turned, if possible, unnaturally ghostly white. He looked as if he was about to pass out. The light switch was located at the corner of the room, a few feet from the door to its right. Nick was just at the right place to see the body in full view…

_No... no way. Sara... are you Sara?_

He placed his hand onto his mouth as he walked to the side of the table to get a better look. He walked with great caution, like as if he was walking on eggshells, trying not to break anything. As he inched towards the table, he heard the sound of a mini fan whirling. The sound came from under the heap of papers on the table. Nick looked at Warrick for a moment.

"Did you hear that?" Nick asked, trying to distract himself from looking towards the chair. Warrick took his eyes off the body and gave him a puzzled look.

"Yeah… What is that? — A computer?" He looked towards the table, trying to look for the source of the sound. He and Nick carefully shift through the papers that were scattered around, revealing a black laptop on the table. Both men took it out of the room, giving Brass and the office a chance to evaluate the scene. Once they were in the dinning room, they sat by the table and opened up the laptop. On the screen, it showed a black screensaver with a tiny box right in the middle.

_Type in your password._

* * *

------

He opened his black car door and looked up to stare at the starlit sky. The same stars from long ago stared back at him, habouring the secrets that he had kept to himself all this time. It was like they were watching his every move, threatening to tell others of his crimes on earth... to shout out what he did to the rejected ones... to the 3 kidnapped victims... to the 2 friends in the alley way... to the one person in the house in the middle of the desert far away from here...

_Pancho..._ He hated that word_. Why did she have to say that? In front of the one of the kidnapped victim no less. She had broke the rule that was set. She knew what will happen if she broke it. Was she testing his patience? Was she trying to be defiant? Does she really think that this "Pancho" could help her? Save her?_

He had hurt her before but not this bad...It was her fault that he needed their help... she had put herself in that situation. It was her fault that she might die tonight.

Only time will tell...

------

* * *

"What is the damn password?" Warrick said after his first attempt. The computer threatened to erase and corrupt all memory after its third try. He has tried Sara's name, thinking that since Sara's photo was on the table, the killer could have used her name as a password. Wrong move... Only 2 tries left. 

Nick walked back into the room to look around for a possible clue. The walls were blank, the shelves were empty, and the papers on the table were filled with gibberish. The scene looked staged, like as if the killer was expecting them to show up, pulling them deeper and deeper into his mental, psychological game. "Damn." He said as he hit wall in pure defeat. He was about to walk out when a thought came to him, _The last case that bother Sara was the newspaper article... We talked about it in the alley before we were attacked. The victim in the newspaper was involved in the 'rejected killings'…_

"Hey 'Rick," Nick shouted, "try the word 'rejected'."

Warrick typed the word in, praying in his heart that it was the right one. The screen lagged for a while before coming to life. "All right, we're in!" Warrick said has he looked at the contents in the computer desktop. There were only 2 folders on the screen.

**The Rejected** and **The** **Approved**.

"Hey Nick, come here a sec." Warrick said as he clicked on the **Rejected** folder. "I think we found our 'rejected' killer." He pointed to the screen as Nick sat next to him. Within the folder, there were files with the names of several victims as their titles. Within those files, there were detailed profiles of each victim, from their medical history to education qualifications. There were pictures of them before and after death, with the word "rejected" clearly visible on their bodies. There were also video files that showed the abuse and murders taking place. However, during the whole time, the killer's face was covered.

"That sick bastard…" Nick said with anger. "What's on the other folder?"

"Let's see ..." Warrick opened up the **Approved** folder. There was only one file in there. "_I'm going to need her back_?" Nick read out the file title, "What does he mean by that?" Warrick looked back at Nick, confused. He opened the file…

On the monitor screen, Nick and Warrick were face to face with a video, shot with a thermal infrared imaging camera. The camera showed them images of temperature variations within a room. From what they can tell, there was someone at the far right corner of the room.

The name at the bottom of the screen read: **Sara Sidle**.

"Oh my gosh---" Nick turned to the direction of the study room, "The body in the study is not her…that's Sara!! That's Sara in that room!" Nick shouted and pointed at the computer screen, feeling alittle relieved but mostly worried at the same time. He tried to recall what someone told him about infrared thermography. "Warrick— blue means dead… red means alive right?" Warrick thought for a second before nodding his head. Nick looked back at the monitor. "Hers shows pink, which means body heat's fading…" He turned to look at Warrick, unable to hide a desperate, sad look on his face.

"She's dying…"

TBC

* * *

One of my siblings said that Nick was not emotional enough in this chapter. Do you all agree?. I kinda like it when Nick puts up a strong front. He seems like that kind of guy, if you know what I mean. 

Could I ask you guys,do you think I should continue this story? I kinda think its long-winded and not many people will like that kind of thing. Do let me know.

Thank you for reading this chapter. You guys are great. Smile!


	8. A killer's simple game

**Author's Note**: Hugs for everyone. To those that reviewed, thank you from the bottom of my heart. They mean a lot to me. I just thought of a little Snicker moment not too long ago. I had to put it in this chapter. Its in a form of a flashback (they'll get to her soon, I promise). Hope you'll like it.

* * *

**Chapter 8**

"Where is it? Where the hell is that room?" Nick asked, as he pointed to the laptop, feeling extremely agitated and concerned. He had ran to every room, trying to find a place similar to what he saw on the screen. Tired and discouraged, he leaned against the wall to take a break. "How can we be sure it's a live feed?" Nick asked in the steadiest voice he could master, facing away from both Brass and Warrick, wiping the tears off his face.

"We just have to assume that it is." Warrick said sadly. He was still seated by the table, staring at the screen, trying to make sense of the image in front of him. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest and in his head. The experience felt familiar, similar to the time when he and the gang were in standing in front of the monitor in the lab, watching Nick struggling in that box. _She's dying…_The words kept replaying in his head. _What happened to her? Where is she? Why is she there? How are they going to get to her?_ Questions, questions! But no answers… The pounding in his head was getting heavier and harder by the minute. Every thought, every question was rushing into his brain. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to clear his mind as well as prevent the tears from coming out of his eyes. He took out his phone…

* * *

Adrenaline was traveling around his bloodstream. The hairs on his neck were standing. His jaw was left hanging and he had stop breathing. Those were the kind of reactions that you would not expect from a man like Grissom. He was relieved, he was worried, he was upset, he was nervous; all emotions rolled into one. He ran into the other room, where Catherine, Sofia and Greg were discussing the 'rejected' killings. 

"I just got off the phone with Warrick--- Go through the kidnapped victims statements again. We need to find that room." The 3 of them looked at Grissom, confused and baffled by his outburst.

"What room, Grissom?" Greg asked. "What are you talking about?"

Grissom took a breath to clear his mind, "Nick and Warrick are along Route 160 on a case. It's somehow related to the 'reject killings'…" He told them the conversation he had with Warrick, filling them in with the details of the dead body they found and the laptop. "… They have found Sara…" He paused, trying to control his emotions. "… It doesn't look good."

* * *

"Alright…. You're sure? Ok, we'll try to look for it…. Thanks." Warrick hung up the phone. "Nick! I just got off the phone with Cath. One of the victims remembered seeing a safe room somewhere… you know, the kind with steel doors and all. It must be hidden in one of the rooms. She could be in there." 

Nick was seated in the living room, his face looking down towards the floor, his cap covering his emotions. They knew Sara's here, she's somewhere in this house, begging for help, and they can't find the door to get to her. He slammed his fist onto the coffee table in front of him, "Damn it Warrick! Where is she? I have search every room in this godforsaken place and I still can't find her." He banged his fist onto the table again, before covering his face with his bruised hands.

Warrick sat next to him. "She's counting on us, Nick. Don't give up yet." Nick sighed and nodded his head in agreement. The two men were about to stand up when Brass called out to them.

"Hey guys, we got something…" They walked into one of the bedrooms. The room was neat and tidy, and if they didn't know better; it would have looked like one of the rooms you'll find in a nice motel. There was a single bed in the center of the room, a table next to it with a digital clock and a lamp that matched the green painted walls. The bed was made, with its blankets tucked into its sides. It seems like no one has slept on it for a while now. There were tiny rectangular windows near the ceiling; allow the moonlight to reflect its rays onto the bed and its frames. The ground was fully carpeted and clean, with the exception of tiny specks of dust hovering near the surface. On the left was a large hanging picture on the wall and a huge brown door that was open on the right. The only thing out of place was a big wooden board leaning against the bed, with Brass standing beside it.

"We did a little snooping around. This officer here 'accidentally' pulled this out while searching the closet." Brass said, pointing to the board. "We found this." He ushered them towards the open door. The closet was about the size of a walk-in wardrobe. The only source of light came from a light bulb hanging above them, swinging from side to side, laminating one end of the room to the other. Right in front of them, where the big wooden board used to be, was very heavy-looking steel vault door.

"I've heard of a safe room but this is ridiculous." Brass said as he pulled the 3-point handle on the door. It didn't budge. He looked at Warrick and Nick. "If this room was suppose to keep you safe… why are the locks on the outside? A safe room is meant to keep intruders out."

"…Or keep someone in." Nick answered. "Are you sure she's in there?" He waited for their positive response. "We need to get this open, and we need it open now!"

"I've seen this before. You need a code to open a vault door. It's impossible to break through. The door has inner and outer steel plates installed. We need to get one of our security specialist to open this lock." Warrick said, tapping on the door before picking up his phone to call for backup. "I'll call the coroner as well. We need to get that D.B to the lab."

As soon as Warrick ended his sentence, a voice spoke up, "Hey… this picture is upside-down." The 3 men turned towards the voice. The officer that explored the house together with Brass took hold of the hanging picture by its sides and took it off the wall.

"Wait, don't touch anything—" Warrick shouted as he ran out from inside the closet, just in time to see the officer lifting the picture off the wall and placing it on the floor. "What is the matter with you? This is a crime scene! You're not suppose to touch anything…"

"I…I'm sorry, I… I just joined the… force not long ago…" The rookie cop looked like as if he was about to pee in his pant as Warrick walked towards him. Brass was standing at the other side of the bed, holding his head with his hand and shaking his head in embarrassment.

Nick looked around the room. "Quiet, you guys…" He said as he put his hand towards his ear. "Do you hear that?" All of them silently stood where they were, straining their ears to listen out for a sound.

"I don't hear…"

"You! Quiet!" Brass harshly whispered as he pointed his finger at the rookie, threatening to break him in half if he said anything else. Something was making a sound, a very soft 'something'. An unusual repeated 'clanking' sound was heard. _Where is it coming from? The safe room?_

Nick walked towards the officer and took the painting off the floor. He turned the picture around and pushed its backing, trying to feel if there's more to the picture that meets the eye. Sure enough, there was definitely something between the backing and picture. Nick took it off to see what it was. Inside were the blueprints of the house as well as a letter.

------

_**Hello my dear CSIs. **_

_**If you're reading this letter, that means one of you idiots had took the painting off the wall. Did you hear a something? That is the sound of your window of opportunity opening. You see, there're 4 sensors hidden behind each corner of the frame. Each sensor is paired up with another found in the wall. If one of those sensors were to be separated from each other, a ventilation shaft will open, allowing you access into the vault. (I'm sure you have already found it. After all, you guys are CSIs.) Remember this though, it doesn't stay open forever and it's a one-time deal. The shaft is designed for only one person, so choose your players wisely. You have 30 minutes before it closes. Worried? Don't be! Being the 'kind' human being that I am, I have left you the blueprints of the house. That should save you some time. If you win, you get to save your friend (if she's not already dead). So, without further ado, let the games begin. **_

_Some facts about the game we're about to play…_

_- To open the vault from the inside, push the button located closest to the doors. __The doors will take about 30 minutes to open. _

_- There are medical supplies in the vault, use it to your advantage. _

_- The ventilation shaft is only able to support the maximum weight of 160lbs. Any heavier (even if its just 1lb over), the shaft will dismantle, killing you and destroying your only way in. _

_- The maximum height that the ventilation shaft can support is 6 feet. Any taller will result in a higher risk of you getting trapped. _

_- Bring what you need. Once you enter the vault through the ventilation shaft, there's no turning back. _

_Now that you have wasted about 5 minutes of your precious time reading my letter, you better start moving. _

_**P.S** I'm going to need her back when you're done with her…_

------

26 minutes left…

"This is a game to him?!" Nick shouted in disbelief, getting a little hysterical. "This is nothing but a game to him? …You!" He pointed an angry finger at the rookie officer. "What… we're moving furniture now? We're decorating crime scenes? What were you thinking?" Nick grabbed the officer by the collar, slamming his back up against the wall. "We don't even have any backup! IF SHE DIES…"

"NICK, back off. Let him go!" Warrick stood behind Nick, grabbing his arms in a lock and pulling him back away from the officer.

"Stand outside with the others and secure the perimeter." Brass ordered the rookie. He took a long, hard look at the trembling officer, knowing that that could be the last time he'll ever see him in uniform again. He turned towards Nick and Warrick. "I never liked rookies." He said as he pointed towards the door that the officer walked out from. "You okay?" Nick nodded, looking a little calmer than he did before. "Don't worry." Brass assured him with a smirk. "I would have done the same thing if you didn't attack him first. Let's look over the blueprints." He looked at his watch. "We have to do it fast."

22 minutes left…

"The ventilation shaft is over here." Warrick pointed to a spot on the blueprints. "According to this, the opening is found at the back of the house."

"I'll go check it out." Brass stood up and headed out through the back door.

Warrick read the letter again. _Maximum 6 feet and 160 lbs_… he thought to himself. He closed his eyes for a moment. _Brass has the height but he's about 3lbs too heavy._ Warrick looked at his own physique. He's definitely out. He's too tall and too heavy to get through the ventilation shaft. The rookie officer is too green and stupid to do the job, and the others are either too tall or too heavy. Nick was just the perfect height and weight to get through. The only problem was that Nick hasn't exactly recovered from his own traumatic experience. It's too soon. He may suffer a panic attack in there. Warrick sighed. _They could wait for backup to arrive. The shaft will be inaccessible by then but they could bypass the security locks with what they have._ But... it would take them about an hour to get here and more than 2 hours to break the code.

Time… is something that they didn't have.

18 minutes left…

Nick sat in front of the vault door, his head leaning against its cold surface, cooling his hot wet tears that were running down his face. After hearing what Warrick had to say, he went into the closet to think things through. They were thinking of going with the second plan, which was waiting for backup. Nick could tell that both Warrick and Brass didn't like the idea at all, but they had no choice. To ensure the safety of everyone... well... almost everyone.

His gut felt like it was filled with butterflies. His heart was heavy. His fists were shaking and his feet were restless. He hated the way he was feeling. He took slow and steady breaths in an attempt to calm down, with only the occasional sobs and hiccups interrupting him. Here he is, sitting in a place where he thought was the closest to Sara, whispering to the door as if it would repeat to her what he said, trying to justify his actions. He wanted to save Sara so badly but fear is preventing him from doing so. He felt helpless, useless and worthless.

_Could he save her without a panic attack? Could he even save her at all?_

After being buried alive, Nick has developed a fear for enclosed spaces, becoming claustrophobic. During his first few days of recovery, he experienced horrible flashbacks when awake and nightmares when asleep. He used to get panic attacks frequently. He still gets them sometimes, but he has learnt to control them. He had help from the P.E.A.P counselor and therapist. He had help from his family. He had help from friends.

He had help from Sara…

* * *

_About 2 years ago..._

_Nick was leaning against the hood of his car, looking up at the cloudless sky. The lights of the city were beaming, almost like they were competing with the stars for his attention. His shift was over, but he decide to hang around for a while, appreciating his surroundings. Once you had experienced what Nick had gone through, you'll learn not to take things for granted._

_"Hey." Came a voice that he knew well. He turned towards the source, watching her walk towards him. It was a cold night, she had her thick jacket on and her hands in her pocket. She stood nearby and gave him her warmest smile, "Is this space taken?" She took one hand out of its comfort zone and pointed to the front of his car._

_He smiled back as he scooted over to his left, making space for Sara. She lean against the spot where he was, feeling the remainder of his body heat on the hood, "Did you see your P.E.A.P Counselor today?" He answered her question with a nod. "How was it?"_

_"It's alright. We just talked about stuff… you know how it is."_

_She smiled, "I know. Been there, done that." She looked down on the ground, shuffling the tiny grains of sand on the gravel from one position to another. "…I'm worried about you Nick. You seem different somehow." She paused, pondering over her next question. "Still having nightmares?"_

_"Not so much now… I am getting better. I can't stand it when people keep asking me about it..." He looked towards Sara for a moment. She was still looking at the ground, but he could tell that her feelings were a little hurt by that last sentence. He continued, "I do get a little nervous around bugs and small spaces. I feel like… like a wimp, you know. I'm sure the boys back in Dallas are having a good laugh over this."_

_"Nick," She looked up from the spot where she was staring at to look at him, "What you've experience is no laughing matter… And you're not a wimp." She gave him a friendly punch to his right shoulder. "Besides, I don't think anyone of us could endure what you have gone through. It takes a really strong person to be able to make it out of there…"_

_Nick smiled at the thought, but it disappeared quickly, "I still get uncomfortable around these things. I don't know… I'm worried about its effect on the cases— I'm worried about its effects on me…" His voice drifted off into a whisper. After a short moment of silence between the 2 CSIs, he felt his car bounce slightly. He looked up to see Sara standing in front of him, the tip of her shoes almost touching his own. She looked back at him, studying the contours of his face._

_"Close your eyes." She said._

_Nick gave her a puzzled, confused look. "Wait—what? Why?"_

_She leaned closer towards him. "Trust me, close your eyes…" She said as she placed her fingertips on his forehead. Gently, she glided her fingers down to his eyes, covering them with both her hands. After she was sure that he had done what she asked, she took her hands off his face._

_"This better not be a trick Sara Sidle." Nick said as he felt her fingers leave his face. **What is she up to?**_

_"Oh… using my full name now." She joked. "Just trust me… that's all I ask."_

_Nick smiled. He could feel Sara's presence close to him. As a cool breeze blew by, he could smell her fragrance. **So this is what Greg meant by "Sidle Scent",** he though as he recalled Greg talking about it when he was recovering from his injuries. It smelt exactly how Greg described it, making him grin. He listened to the rustling of the trees around them as he waited for Sara's instructions._

_"Picture yourself in a dark room…" She began. Nick tried blocking out all the sound around him, focusing on Sara's voice. "…You're sitting in the center of that room… the four walls around you are closing in." Nick imagined his surrounding getting smaller and smaller. He twitched in discomfort._

_"Sara… this is ridiculous. I'm not going to—" As he tried to open his eyes, Sara quickly placed both her hands onto his face, obstructing his vision._

_"Shh…don't open your eyes yet." She said gently. "Don't you trust me?" Nick smirked and nodded his head. "Now… the four walls surrounding you are closing in." Sara felt Nick's eyes closed tightly under her fingers. He shifted his weight uncomfortably on the hood of the car, as if he making sure he's still able to move around. Sara smiled at his response. "If you feel uncomfortable, raise your hand." Nick's shaky hand rose up slowly. It looked clumsy and unstable, almost like it didn't belong to him at all. His breathing sped up a little, Sara could tell that he was getting nervous. As his hand rose higher and higher, she took her left hand from his eyes and grabbed it, holding it tight. "Think of a word that makes you feel safe." She said as she looked at Nick, visualizing the gears in his mind working away. "Say it out loud."_

_"Cisco." He said, as both his and Sara's hand moved down slowly, back towards his side. He began to relax a little. His breathing had returned to normal and his hands were no longer shaky. Sara took her hand off his face, waiting for Nick to open his eyes._

_"Whoa…" Nick blew out his breath slowly as he said that, "Where did you learn to do that?"_

_Sara thought about it for a while. "I'll save that story for another time." She gave him a smirk. "So… whenever you feel uncomfortable in a small, confined space, just say your 'safe' word and breathe in and out, slowly and deeply. That should help you relax a little." She said as she looked at her watch. "Hope that helped… I got to go. See you tomorrow?" She waved as she walked passed his car towards hers as Nick watched her leave…_

* * *

15 minutes left...

He opened his eyes as the memory disappeared…

_What should he do? Should he do it? Could he do it?_

_The clock's ticking…_ _Time is running out_

TBC

* * *

What Sara did to Nick actually does work. It's called _systematic desensitization_ and it can used to treat anxiety and phobias. (Just in case you're wondering). Smiles 

Hope you guys are having/had/will have a wonderful V-day.


	9. The blind, the deaf and the lost

**Author's Note: **Hello! Sorry for the delay… Just had my last exam paper over and done with today, feeling kinda bummed out about it... exams suck. But thanks for the reviews and PM. They made me feel so much better. Thank you all! Each and every one of you. You know who you are --smirk--

Reading back on the previous chapters, I realised I've made many grammar and spelling mistakes. They can be annoying. Hopefully, this chapter will have fewer errors.

* * *

**Chapter 9**

------

"_Is this a good time?"_

"_A good time for what?"_

"_A good time for you to tell me your story. Where did you learn to do that?" _

_Sara looked at Nick with her head tilted to her side. "What story? Do what?"_

"_You know… the one where you became all Dr. Phil on me." She frowned, not understanding a word he's saying. "Dr Phil… an American psychologist? Appeared on Oprah…"_

"_You watch Oprah?" _

"_What?! No— I'm just saying… Hey! Don't you look at me that way." Nick turned beet red in the face, trying to justify himself with his Texas accent. "You seriously need to watch more TV..."_

_Sara laughed. She hadn't laughed this hard in a long time. Tears formed at the corners of her eyes. "Come on... men watch Oprah too, Don't be ashamed of that." She said as she clenched her side. _

"_If I wasn't so curious, I would have left by now." Nick replied, recovering from his inward embarrassment. "I think me making you laugh is worthy enough to be paid with the story?"_

_Wiping her last tear with her finger, Sara looked towards Nick._

"_Okay, I'll tell you... "_

_------

* * *

_

"I got a package for the Las Vegas Crime lab. Hello?… Anybody?…"

The deliveryman looked towards the receptionist desk. The chair was empty and there were no other signs of life wandering the corridors. "Someone has to sign for this! I don't have all day! Come on!"

"I'll sign for that." Sofia came up to him from the break room. "Who's it for?"

"Don't know. It's not my job to know. I just deliver. Sign here… Thank you." The deliveryman turned and headed towards the lift.

Sofia looked towards the package. Its presentable brown wrapping wrote:

**Crime Lab**

**3657 Westfall Ave **

**Las Vegas, NV 89109**

There was no return address. The package had a red "approved" stamp on it. She turned and ran towards the break room…

* * *

------ 

"_Did I tell you that I was once afraid of the dark?" Sara turned to face Nick as she began her story. "When I was a kid, I was terrified of it."_

_He dragged a chair across the floor, "You? … I would never have guessed." He took a seat closest to her._

"_Yeah_... _My parents--- they used to have these fights. Mmhmm… the kinds that go beyond arguments. The house was a battlefield, with mum hurling a missile here, dad throwing a bomb there… you get what I mean. They take it out on me sometimes--" She thought for a moment, "I had this closet in my room. Cosy, small, just nice for me. It was the closest thing I had to a haven. During the day, the light came through the door... almost heavenly, but by night… lets just say that it's a creepy, dark closet." Sara laughed, trying to get rid of the discomforting attention she's getting. _

"_Let me guess… these fights would occur mostly at night."_

"_Pretty much…"_

"_Is that how you got over it? Exposing yourself to your fears?"_

_Sara placed her hand on her chin_, _thinking about it before speaking out_, "_What I did to you… I did the exact same thing when I was in the closet. It helped me a little." She smiled, "Sometimes… problems are like math equations. Between the dark and my parents, which one hurts more?_

------

"Which one hurts more Nick?" He asked himself as he sat cross-legged, his hands on his lap, aware that the ventilation shaft will close in about **11 minutes**.

"Which one hurts more? Panic attack or the possibility of losing a friend?"

* * *

The team was getting worried. The rejected killer had become bolder, sending them little messages in little packages. He was somewhere in city of Las Vegas, but they had no way of finding him. _Approved?… Delivery services do not stamp "approved" on their packages. **In** **red?** New policy?_

"Let me do this." Grissom said as he placed the package on the table. It was small, not big enough to contain any body parts of any kind, maybe just nice for a finger or two. He took out a knife, slicing the edges open as the other's watched him. He looked into the package before emptying its contents on the table. The cotton wool that coated its walls slipped out, along with 2 neatly folded pieces of paper. One was torn and abused, the other was laminated and clean.

Greg took out the crumbled, poor excuse for a paper:

_3 kidnapped. One blind, one deaf, one lost. Which one are you?_

"He's talking about kidnapped victims?" Greg asked. "Which one are we? What does he mean by that?"

"That's not all," Catherine said, referring to the paper in her hands. "He's advertising." She held the paper up to show the others what it said:

----------

_Are you tired of sitting around, not knowing what to do? Tired of waiting several days for a break in the case? Tired of being the terrible **CSIs** that you are? Tired of feeling responsible for the disappearance of a friend named of **Sara Sidle**? Tired of the uncertainty when she'll be back? Tired of waiting for the news of her rescue or death?_

_Your friendly murder has solved all these problems for you. Soon you'll be able to experience a lifetime of sorrows and regret, at no extra cost. **Priceless!**_

_At last, you'll be able to see your **friend** again, in the comfort of your own lab, in less time and for less money, charged by any criminal suspects you'll ever find._

_**-- Be The Best FRIEND You Can Be with the Rejected Killing Introductory Video -- **_

_Yes, I know that what I am about to reveal to you can be almost impossible to believe. But it's 100 percent true. I'll show you the fastest and easiest way to feel regret and disappointment like you've never felt before…_

_But before I release this information, I just want to let you know that I've watched you guys continue to reopen the case unnecessarily, trying to look for something amiss. Most were hoping to find a way to get rid of the **nightmare** and **guilt** on their backs. Others were just trying to move on. Today, instead of watching people spend time needlessly on a dead end, I break into a great big **SMILE** as I imagined my customers' petrified faces and eyes staring at this letter._

_I want you to feel the same "**excitement**" of watching someone **suffer** and die, while saving "**time**" in the process…_

_I can easily sell this information for over $1million in ransom money. But, thanks to the reduced cost involved with sending this package and my "**sincere**" wish to **HELP** as many of you as possible – I have decided to offer you immediate access to the video for the price of_

_**Absolutely nothing! **_

_And the best part is, you can have it within minutes from now because the video is available for instant download!_

_Please keep in mind that this is a "**limited time special**." Your friend might not live that long, so please act now to take advantage of this rare opportunity. _

_Type in this **IP address** to get your video now!_

_----------_

The team hurried towards a computer and typed in the string of numbers.

* * *

Nick took out his radio and waved it towards Warrick, pondering if he should bring it along. "We would not be able to hear you through the ventilation shaft. There'll be a lot of electrical interference, normal transmission would probably be impossible. You should be able to contact us if you get to that room. Better bring it with you." Nick gave him a nod and hooked his radio onto his vest. 

"I have a bad feeling about this." Warrick said as Nick gathered his things. "It's great that you've decided to go through with it. But it's still dangerous." Nick walked across the living room, feeling the weight of his vest on his shoulders. He could only bring a few things, or the ventilation shaft would not be able to hold his weight. He began loading up his pockets with some light sticks, a flashlight and some medical supplies. He didn't carry any weapons, as they would be too heavy. There's probably no one else in the vault anyways. He didn't know what to expect. He wasn't even sure of what he was doing. Half of him believed that he was ending the years' guilt complex and the other half of him believed that he had finally lost it. Nick wondered if it was really Sara in that vault, or just someone (or something) else. They had about **8 minutes **left and Nick could feel the tension throughout his body.

------

"_I never knew you had a family like that. No wonder you hardly talk about them." Nick finally spoke after a long period of silence. Sara had told him some details of her childhood. _

_"Only you, Grissom and my PEAP counsellor know about this. So I would appreciate it if you keep this between us." Sara was picking on a hangnail, feeling vulnerably exposed and unprotected. She never really liked talking about things like these._

"_So…Cisco huh?" Sara grinned, "… your safety word?"_

"_Ha… oh yah. That's what I called my dad. He's my own personal hero. He calls me "Pancho" in return. I was a big fan of The Cisco Kid when I was younger…" He smiled at the thought. "What about you? What was your safety word?"_

_Sara thought of her younger days and moments in the closet. There was really no time for words, only tears. "I never had one. Never really thought of one and didn't think I needed one." She managed to say without losing her composure._

_Nick leaned back against his chair and looked at her for a second. "You know what? — Why don't you use "Pancho". Seen the comic? He's a good-looking cowboy." He teased, elevating his voice just a little. "It's the least I could do after what you did for me." _

_Sara was getting ready to stand up. "Nah… I can't do that. That's something between you and your dad. I'm not going to take that away from you." She said as she prepared to leave the room to get back to one of her cases. _

"_Hey… it's MY nickname." He paused, thinking of what to say. "Tell you what, if you're in danger, afraid or anything at all… shout "Pancho" three times and wherever I am… I'll come running to save you. It'll be like — a hero's beacon. You know those spotlight things..." He tried to charade the action of the spotlight reflecting against the wall._

_Sara stood beside the doorframe, looking at Nick thoughtfully, "Pancho, Pancho, Pancho… and you'll come running?"_

"_And I'll come running to save you." He gave her a closed lip smile and place his hand on his heart, "I promise..."_

-------

_I made a promise…_Nick thought. "I gotta do something. I can't just sit here and wait for someone else to do the job. The guilt would kill me. It would kill all of us… I got to try." He said as he looked over Warrick's shoulder, "Brass, what's the ETA on that backup?"

Brass picked up his radio to make a call. The machine emitted static before saying "_ETA approximately 45 minutes. All units backed up… emergency regarding_…" The radio kept stuttering police jargon as the team realized that they'll be on their own for a long while.

"45 minutes is a long time…" Brass said sadly.

Warrick looked uncertain, but he knew Brass was right. He looked at his watch, 5** minutes **left… "Let's look at the monitor again. Maybe we can get a clue of what we're up against..."

* * *

"I don't see anything." Greg looked at the screen, squinting his eyes. "Did we type it wrong?" 

Catherine checked and rechecked the IP address as Sofia and Grissom sat near the computer, thinking hard and feeling discouraged.

"Do you think… he's getting desperate?" Sofia asked as if talking to the screen instead of the team. Grissom looked at her, waiting for her to continue. "We got an anonymous tip about a house in the desert. Warrick told us about the note that was placed behind the picture in that house… someone sent an "advertisement" to the lab—within less than 24 hours. Its like… he wants us to find Sara, to watch her… to save her or something…" She sighed. "He kept saying things like..."she might die" or "she might not live that long"... "if she's still alive", "if she not already dead". What does he want? What does he Really want?"

Grissom caught on, "Maybe he wants us to hurry. I don't think he wants Sara to die… maybe he just wants us to think that. Was the deliveryman an accomplice?"

"I thought so. I've just sent someone to check that out. We'll know more later." She peeked over Catherine's shoulder to look at the "advertisement". "_I just want to let you know that I've watched you guys continue to reopen the case_…" She read the line aloud. "He's been watching us? Was he in the lab?"

Grissom was about to reply as Greg shouted in triumph, "Got it!" He shook his fist in achievement. "The reason why we couldn't see anything is because wherever we're getting the video feed from, it's too dark. By pressing "**T**", we'll turn on the camera's thermal vision and…." He pushed the button. "There you go…"

The team looked towards the silent screen. What they assume was the same video that Nick, Warrick and Brass saw was now beaming on the screen in front of them. The image was mostly blue, with some colours occasionally coming and going. The camera was most likely positioned at the top corner, near the ceiling, revealing minor details of what seems to be a room. Small red dots were scurrying from left to right, up and down, not really going anywhere.

"Rats?" Catherine asked.

"Most likely." Grissom replied, more focus on a pink apparition at the far right of the screen. "What is that?"

The phone rang, causing the team to jump out of their skin. Catherine took a deep breathe before answering, "Willows…"

"Cath? It's Warrick… Tell Grissom we lost the video. We've lost the feed. The screen's blank. We can't see anything in that room. As of now, we're blind."

Catherine repeated what Warrick said to the others. "I think we intercepted your video," She told him. "We're looking at it as we speak."

"Blind?" Greg stood where he was, still holding on to the crumbled paper. He took another look:

_3 kidnapped. One blind, one deaf, one lost. Which one are you?_

"If they're blind…" Greg picked up the speakers connected to the computer towards his ears. "That mean's we're deaf. There's no sound coming from the speaker."

"And if we're deaf," Sofia asked, "Who's lost?"

The team stared at each other. Having a thought, Grissom suddenly stood up from his chair. "Catherine! Tell Warrick not to let Nick into the ventilation shaft yet. We need to think this through! We're missing something."

Catherine urgently repeated the orders into the phone. She heard the sound of pounding footsteps in the background, followed by Warrick's voice yelling out to Nick. Some shuffling was heard before a loud slam of metal on metal was made.

And then, there was nothing but **silence**…

"Warrick?" Catherine waited for a response. "Warrick? You there? What's happened?" She said with urgency in her voice. "Rick?"

"He's in…" Warrick's monotone voice finally spoke. "I could'nt stop him. There was nothing I could do."

"Nick's on his own for now."

**TBC**

* * *

_I decided to use this chapter to answer a few things: _

_Why did Sara shout "Pancho" 3times in chapter 6, where did she get the idea of helping Nick overcome his phobia in chapter 8, why were 3 innocent people kidnapped (chapter 6), why was the killer leaving the team clues after so long, what were the rest of the team doing at that time etc._

_In the next chapter, I'm thinking of focusing on only Nick and Sara (if she's still alive, I'm still thinking about it. --nervous grin--). Thank you all for your patience. I would have gotten to her earlier, but I didn't want the CSIs to seem like psychics or magicians who magically knew where she was._

_Let me know what you think. Reviews make my day. --smiles--_


	10. The Suffering of the Lost

**Title**: In Hell with Love

**Rating**: T

**Disclaimer**: I do not own CSI or its characters. I'm just a fan

**Author's** **note**: Thanks for the reviews. Sorry for the delay. An error keeps popping up when I try to update. If you're reading this, that means the error has been resolved. Here's chapter 10. Hope you'll like it.

* * *

**Chapter 10**

_First 24 hours after the abduction…_

_Locked in what seemed to be a damp basement, almost blinded from the obscurity of the dark, all she could see was a ray of a light from the door above her. Dazed and glum, confused and disoriented, she lifted her hand to touch her face, only to find that it fell short. Her right wrist was chained to the floor, leaving little freedom to move. She sat up and tugged on her chain, listening to the sound of metal bouncing off the walls of the oppressive room. She struggled to free herself, but soon gave up, knowing that the only thing she was achieving was the fruitless expenditure of energy she might need later. _

_Still unsure of where she was, the time of day or how long she has been held, her CSI instincts told her to explore, to find out what's going on. She sat up, her right hand laying on the floor near its chains, feeling its surface. She felt sand under her fingertips and suspected that she was somewhere near the desert. Her hands wandered some more, but she stopped the moment she felt something unusual and deviant, terrified of what it might be._

_Time went by, she had sat where she was for so long, she couldn't tell the difference between minutes and hours. For all she knows, days could have come and gone without her even noticing. _

_She began hearing things at random. A ventilation shaft screeches and clangs whenever it wants. A pipe creaks in the dark. Sometimes she heard the doorknob jiggle. Once, she thought someone knocked on the door. She cried out for help, but no one answered. _

_Shadows surrounded her, making her feel vulnerable to imaginations of monsters that hid within it. She was alone, yet she felt things around her, scurrying to who knows where. There were times where something furry brushed up against her leg, making her aware of its presence. She tried her best not to focus on them, instead, she thought of other times – times where she could think without fear, times where she could move around without restraints cutting into the soft flesh of her skin. _

_She did not know how she came to be in this housing of an absurd dream. One moment she was walking in a blissful city of bright lights, only to wake up to find herself in a realm of never-ending blackness where even a glimmer of light hid from the shadows. Before this, she was with… wait! Wasn't Nick with her in the alley? Memories came flowing back. She panicked, will Nick be able handle this if he's in this place?_

"_Nick?" She uttered, afraid for herself and for him, "Are you there?" _

_She listened out for an answer. There was none, the beating of her heart was her only reply._

_Suddenly, the door swung open, banging harshly against the wall. The bright fluorescent light instantly raped the room. She looked down squinting, unable to take the light completely. She watched his black boots move as **he** came closer. His shadow falling over her eyes as **he** inspected her._

* * *

The ventilation shaft was the most appalling thing he had seen in a very long time. They found it at the back of the house, grotesquely sticking out of the wall like a vessel protruding out of a human heart. It was either too big for the house or the house was too small for it. Nick stared, watching it suck the wind and sand from the desert, feeding itself, while howling in satisfaction. In less than a few minutes, he would have to slide down its awaiting mouth and hope for the best. 

The ventilation shaft was slightly bigger than the box he was in a long time ago, but just as terrifying. The top of its opening was made of steel or whatever metal that had already rusted through out the years. He stooped down to examine the filthy shaft, the wheels turning in his head, processing his terminal predicament. Looking in, he could see the inside of a long rectangular tunnel, with its low walls, smooth and metallic. The rest of it sloped its way down towards an underworld. Nick took a light stick and threw it in, listening and watching its glow disappear into the abyss. He prayed that the metal slide would lead him somewhere other than hell. Only a few minutes left before it closes, and he's getting nervous.

Nick sat on the ground with his feet at the mouth of the shaft, feeling a minor vortex pulling on his shoes. Brass and Warrick had gone back into the house to look at the screen. He waited, listening to the "clanking" sound the shaft made, drumming his fingers to its rhythm. _Why are they taking so long?_

He looked at his watch. They have about a minute left. Nick stretched his neck out to look towards the back door. From where he was, he could see Warrick pacing back and forth with a phone to his ear. _Where's Brass? Is he where the laptop is?_ Nick can't see the laptop from there. He was about to shout out to Warrick when the ventilation shaft suddenly became silence. _Oh God!_ He thought, feeling the serge of adrenaline traveling into his gut. _Time must be up. There'll be no other way in if I don't do this now. _

"Warrick, I got to go! I got to get to Sara before it's too late." He said as he place both of his hands to his sides and took a breath. "Warrick! I'm going now, I'll contact you through the radio." Nick said, assuming Warrick had heard him, giving himself a push into the dark.

The last thing he heard was Warrick yelling for him to stop.

* * *

_Days after the abduction…_

_Silence and isolation. Beautiful things. The days that were the quietest were her good days. The days that were the loneliest were her good days. She would give up anything to be left alone for hours, in the cold, dark room of wherever. _

_She still did not know where she was. The place would not have been familiar or identifiable to her anyway. Place and time, the anchor of sanity, were about to come unmoor. She's might as well be living in a new world, where every word, move and sensation would be observed and noticed; where things might be as they seem but are not; where there's no such thing as day or night, or normal patterns of eating, drinking, wakefulness and sleep; where hot and cold, wet and dry, clean and dirty, truth and lies would all be tangled and distorted. _

_At first, all she felt was overwhelming relieve and gratitude that she was still alive. She had no idea why that should be. She knew what **he** was capable of. She knew what **he **did. **He **made sure she knew what kind of monster **he** is. She knew that his previous victims had been missing for weeks before ending up, dump somewhere in Las Vegas. She was sure she was going to end up the same way. It was only a matter of time. _

_As more days pass, she tried to convince herself that they'd be coming to get her soon. They would never abandon her. They've saved each other on a daily basis. Cath, Gil, Warrick, Greg, Brass, Sofia, Nick... _

_Nick…What has happened to Nick? _

_For days, she has been calling out to him whenever she was left alone. She told herself that he must be held in another room. Maybe he's just a wall away. Often, whenever she was shackled to the wall, cuff to a pipe, tied to a chair, restrained onto a gurney or chained to the floor like the first time, she'll think of a way to contact him. She'll hit the ground or bang the wall, trying to capture his attention. Sometimes, she would slip in a word or two of encouragement, believing he could hear her. At one point, she thought she heard faint footsteps and a muffled conversation. But even as she strained to hear, the sound would fade and she'll be left wondering if it had all been a dream._

_Why can't she hear him? Are the walls too thick? There must be a reason why she's incapable of hearing him. What if **he**'s doing the same thing to Nick as **he**'s doing to her? She prayed that he's all right._

_The door swung opened again, like it did everyday. She squinted her eyes, forcing them to adjust to the light. She tiredly looked up from the chair she was tied to. What's he planning to do today?_

_**He** does this most of the time. Entering and leaving her room at random times of the day, making every moment between isolation and company an agony of anticipation._

* * *

The sound of metal echoed around as Nick finally came to a stop. He had his eyes shut the entire ride, waiting for his feet to make contact with a solid surface. He ended up in a sitting position, his body propped up by the slide, while his legs were stretched into the inner tunnel in front of him. A moment ago, he heard Warrick's voice fading away, as if entering another dimension. Now, it's just him and the deafening sounds of silence. 

"Calm down, nothing will happen, everything's going to be ok." He told himself, wiping his clammy hands onto his pants. He looked up and shouted to Warrick and Brass. Nothing. He used his radio from his vest, only to be insulted by static. Warrick's right, there's too much electrical interference for a normal transmission. The silence continued to linger around his ears, as he pushed himself further down into the shaft.

The light stick glowed menacingly at his feet as he held on to the sides of the tunnel, pushing his way through. "You can do this, you can do this." He repeated to himself, listening to his voice of encouragement bounce back to him. The further he went, the closer the walls felt. He was beginning to feel sick, his mouth getting dry and his heart started pounding fast. His first mistake was sliding down the ventilation shaft legs first; his feet now obstructing his vision from what lies beyond the tunnel. The second mistake throwing down a light stick that was green; reminding him of his time in the glass coffin made by a madman. He cursed himself for not thinking this through, banging one side of the shaft with his fist. Dust from its low ceiling came settling down onto Nick's face. He coughed and choked, taking his cap off to shield his face.

As he struggled to breathe, terror began to slip through his bones like a knife. The reality he's been doing his damnedest to forget was slowly returning. He kept thinking of the shaft collapsing, trapping him. His supply of air being reduced down to nothing. Fear crept in. He was getting sweaty and breathless. His perspiration has soaked into his collar, spreading out, giving the shaft a humid feeling. He tried to get out of the tunnel as quickly as possible, pushing his weight by his hands, only to find out they were too damp to allow any friction.

Panic started to envelope Nick like a blanket. He started hyperventilating, and he felt his brain locking up. In a burst of hysteria, Nick started struggling in the shaft – pounding his fist against its ceiling. He pushed its top and side, only to feel it return to its normal shape once he let go. He thrashed and kicked within the tunnel, achieving nothing. More dust came pouring down, suffocating him. Shaking and dizzy, he flipped over onto his stomach and tried to make it back the way he came, his gasping dissolving into sobs.

His pleas were echoing into nothing. After all, who here, even if they could hear him, could help? Black slowly crept into the corners of his eyes. He begged to be let out. He felt as though he was about to pass out when something… something Sara told him a long time ago during a case, came back to haunt him.

------

"_I hope you're right. But everything in our experience tells us they're dead…."_

"_Doesn't mean we just give up."_

"_No one's giving up. It's just that… you're acting like you're going to rescue a person, not recover a body. And on this job… that's just not the usually the case."_

"_I was rescued." _

"_It was not your day to die. When it's your day, it's your day, you know?"_

-------

"NO!" Nick screamed, banging his knees against metal. His body trembled, violently shaking off drops of sweat. "I didn't mean to leave you, I didn't mean to let you die. I didn't…" He sobbed into his pale hands.

* * *

_Weeks after the abduction… _

_Bone-tired, hungry, sore, uncomfortable and afraid, she closed her tired eyes tightly, trying to block out the sounds of unknown organisms feasting on the remains of food **he** gave her while she was unconscious. These creatures infested what life she had left, that she often wondered if they were feasting on more than just her meals. Painfully she crawled across the floor, both guided and restricted by the pipe she was handcuffed to and scratched little notes on the wall in the dark. Ever since she was put here, she scratched whatever was on her mind; she wrote clues of who she thought **he** might be, she wrote names of the victims **he** killed, those of whom **he **proudly mentioned. She wrote little messages to the handful of friends she had, hoping that one day, they'll read them and remember her, that she existed in this world once…_

_But she was still alive. As long as she was still alive, she believed that she could be rescued. The team will break down every door in Las Vegas if they have to. They knew what its like to lose one of their own, and there's no way they're going to allow that to happen to her. _

_She leaned against the wall, letting a few tears slip from her eyes. Weeks have passed, and Nick hasn't answered her yet. She had never been so afraid for someone in her life. Her mind was beginning to slip its gears, strange ideas were tumbling over each other in her head. Nothing made sense anymore. What happened to him? Is Nick still alive?_

_All she could pray for was Nick's safety and that the darkness would reclaim her once more. But, by now, the hope of such had vanished…

* * *

_

Alone in the ventilation shaft, lying on his stomach, Nick thumps weakly on the shaft's metal surface. He let out a loud sob as he cries, trying to calm down. As the initial wave of panic dies down, he wiped the tears of his face and took several deep breaths.

"Cisco, Cisco, Cisco…" He repeated it with a rhythm as he pushed himself backwards, traveling along the shaft using his elbows. After a certain distance, his feet felt something foreign, causing him to almost jumped out of his skin. His body tensed up, his muscles cramped, his brain twitched as he froze. Looking back, he saw a faint glow of light reflecting off the metal surface, which wasn't coming from the light stick. Using all his courage, he pushed himself back, repeating his safety word over and over again.

He felt his legs touching nothing as he fell…

* * *

_Months after the abduction… _

_She lay where she was, closing her eyes, trying to shake off the heaviness that surrounded her mind. Isolated, confused, weary, hungry, frightened, tormented and injured, she realized to a sudden stark of clarity that this darkness will fill her for the rest of her life. It filled her body and mind and she was falling in a dark pit, one that she could not escape._

_She has been oblivious to the outside world. Inside her prison, there was still no day or night, just an endlessly mute environment. She could not keep her thoughts under control anymore. She would think of something, only to have it slither away from her grasp. Memories started to disappear; she no long knew what people looked like, who her friends were. Sometimes, she could barely even remember who she was or how she got here. She had held on to the hope that someone would come for her for so long that she didn't care anymore. Once, she thought she was strong enough to be able to survive and wait for a savior. But now, she realized she had no choice but to wait, and her only savior would be the cold grasp of death's hands. That was her intended torture. He would never let her die quickly. That would be too easy._

_Exhausted, she drifted in and out of an altered state that bordered sleep but never quite made it across. She sometimes wondered what happened to the kidnapped victims he brought some time ago. She wondered where her friends were and how they're doing. As the door opened slowly, she couldn't be sure if she was dreaming it. Ignoring the pain of the light, she looked up. She watched as a familiar shape came into view, holding out today's choice of weapon: a knife…_

"_You're not going to make this, easy are you?" **He** swirled the knife between his fingers as **he** inched his way closer. "Unfortunately, as much as I admire your spirit….Let's just say you better hope this "Pancho" saves you. After all, you did call out to him 3 times..." He said angrily before thrusting the knife at her…

* * *

_

Nick fell onto the ground, breaking a few wooden crates along the way. He had managed to make it through the ventilation shaft and ended up in, what seems to be, a large storeroom. He picked up his cap that had fallen onto the floor. Remembering where he was and what he was supposed to be doing, he stood up, grabbed his flashlight and looked around. The room was quite bare, with the exception of wooden crates that broke Nick's fall. The walls were gray and bleak, covered with a pattern of chipped paint and dust. There were no windows but the room was extremely cold. He shone his flashlight towards the ventilation shaft, noticing part of it as disappeared into the wall that was adjacent to the one he was inspecting. That particular wall was the only one in the room that had a door.

If he remembered the path they marked on blueprints, Sara should be behind those doors. He could think of nothing more than to save her. He slowly turned the knob, listening to the sharp, grating sound made by the door as it moved slowly upon its hinges…

**TBC**

* * *

_FYI: Nick's parts are experienced in real-time, Sara's are in a form of a flashback...but I'm sure you knew that already --smile--._


	11. A Sad Reunion

**Title**: In Hell with Love

**Rating**: T

**Disclaimer**: I do not own CSI or its characters. I'm just a fan

**Author's** **note**: Thanks for all the reviews. I'm continuing this story because of you guys -smile- Sorry for the delay. Writer's block…

* * *

**Chapter 11**

He watched as his door opened slowly, listening to its hinges rubbing each other as their resistance builds. He had a sinister grin and a look of anticipation as the man at the door yelled…

"Sir! Your pizza's here!"

He gladly paid the pizza guy and sent him on his way. His stomach growled. His hunger for food was as intense as his hunger for action. The wonders of technology have allowed him instant access to her terror and pain. He could watch her on his computer screen while he lay on his sofa, in the comfort of his own home.

_If they're as good at their job as she is, they should have no problems finding that room._

Whatever the CSIs were watching in the lab, he was watching along with them. The webcams he got were a bargain. The refresh rate wasn't as great as he hoped it would be, but at least he could keep an eye on the room in real time. He hopes that they are enjoying the show as much as he was.

_He had never kept one for so long before. He's been watching her since he saw her. Knowing that she might not live worries him, but he still manages to do what he's supposed to. They better save her, or he'll take another one to replace her. Because this one's a keeper. And he plans to keep it that way._

He watched the screen as flakes from his pizza crust flew onto his shirt and pants.

_Showtime…

* * *

_

"What?" Nick exclaimed in disbelief as the door revealed what lay ahead. Large bright overhead lights shone painfully above him. He closed his eyes, the light burning red through his eyelids, reminding him of the pools of blood that defined the rejected victims. His head hurt, a dull ache that started from the base of his skull and crept towards his eye sockets like a virus attacking healthy cells.

Once his vision returned and his headache gone, he took a better look at the musty, dull room. The room he was in had same solid walls as the foundation walls of the house. Bottles and barrels of wine were lined neatly against its wall. The dust coating them was as thick as makeup foundation. There were planks of wood made to form a staircase in front of him, lazily made and held together with strong hard nails. It would not get an award for its craftsmanship, but Nick could tell that it was sturdy enough to hold his weight. He looked up towards the top of the stairs and found the vault door. Sara was nowhere to be found, in fact, the only other signs of life were scared rats moving around. He touched the chilling, soulless surface of the wall; a distraction from the tears that were about to fall.

_Did I read the blueprints wrong? Or was this nothing but joke on the killer's part?_

Just then, a thought had just occurred to him. _Something isn't right_. The room was much smaller that what the blueprints said it would be. _Much, much smaller_. It was as if the room shrank in half.

"…NICK…(buzzing)…are … you… (Static) there?" Nick almost jumped out of his skin, as if the chill from the wall crawled up his spine. "…If…y…can… hear…(static)" He moved from one end of the room to another, trying to clear the fuzzy sounds from his radio. He walked halfway up the stairs, the soles of his shoes thumped with each step, as he ventured to higher ground.

"Nick… You there?" The radio still didn't sound its best, but it was clear enough. Its persistent buzzing reminded Nick of a swarm of flies flying around a corpse but Brass's voice was a comfort.

"Geez Brass! You scared the hell out of me." Nick answered, surprised at the loudness and shakiness of his voice.

"Sorry if we're… (Buzzing) concern about you… (static)." He replied sarcastically, hiding his sigh of relief poorly. " So you made it out. You alright Nick?"

"Yeah… I'm fine. Piece of cake." Nick wiped his dust-laden face with his hands, feeling the clean trails of tears lining his face. He decided to hide his panic attack them. No point in them worrying about him. "Where's Warrick?"

"(Buzzing)… collecting evidence from the body in the study. He needed to distract himself. He was pretty worried about you. I'll… (static) him know you're alright. Anything you want us to know?"

Nick told Brass everything, from the layout of the room to the number of wine bottles and barrels. He also mentioned that there was no sign of Sara. Brass listened and sadly passed the message over to Warrick after each sentence. "Don't forget to push the button closest to the door. (Buzzing)… takes about 30 minutes…(static) open." Nick heard Warrick's worried voice in the background.

"Got it." Nick ran up the remaining steps, feeling the planks creak under his weight. A big red button beside the door was about the size of his fist, with a small rectangular screen just above it. He pushed it eagerly, watching the screen flashing, numbers appearing.

"45 minutes!! That son of a…" Nick stomp his foot angrily on the steps, feeling their vibrations throbbing under him. "That's 15 minutes more than he promised! I'm gonna…"

Just then, he heard a sound. _What was that? Clanking? Was it the ventilation shaft again?_

"(Buzzing)… least you got 45 minutes to look around. I'm going to call…(static) others in the lab… call you back?"

"Erm… yeah sure… let you know if I find anything."

The sound continued. _It can't be. The clanking of the shaft was much louder. Another shaft?_

Nick walked cautiously down the stairs. They groaned and creaked with each step. He looked around the brightly lit room, listening out for the sound again.

_Imagination? A delusion?_

The clanking started again. The sound was coming from somewhere within the room, but Nick couldn't tell where or what it is.

The sound persisted. He listened carefully and tried to follow its path.

It came from behind the wall. Nick pressed his ear up against its surface and walked around, listening for the sound. He stepped back and looked at the wall. There was a piece of metal that had been lodged into the wall, hidden behind a wooden wine rack, one that wasn't holding many bottles. Nick moved it aside easily.

With the obstruction gone, he could now see the hinges in the wall. Nick looked at the hidden door with tears in his eyes and grabbed the metal piece.

_This is it. No wonder the room seems smaller than the blue prints. The other half is hidden. Maybe Sara's in here._

The door wouldn't budge. Nick threw his body repeatedly against the hidden door till it burst open.

------------

The light from the room flew through the door, casting Nick's elongated shadow onto the floor. The first thing that caught his attention was blood on the floor, a few feet from where he was standing. The anonymity of those who may have suffered was absolute. The opening of the hidden door had suggested that human life have been reduced to nothing.

He cautiously entered the unknown. The smell of iron was evident. Nick wasn't sure if it was the smell of rust or the smell of human blood. The temperature in the room was colder than the outside, since the room was below the ground. Nick adjusted his cap, his head jerking up when he heard the clanking sounds again. He flashed his flashlight towards the direction of the sound.

_Clank, clank. The sound of metal…Pipes? Chains?_

Towards the right of this concrete cage, at its epicentre, something caught Nick's attention.

_The clanking stopped…_

This is real, not some hoax. Not this time. Not a dead body stump on a chair, not some video with her name, not some threatening letter sent by a killer. He was sure of it now. He's face to face with Sara Sidle.

_And she's alive!

* * *

_

The atmosphere in the lab was heady with anticipation. A low buzz of speculation filled the air as the remaining CSI waited for a call from the team out in the field. Nothing has changed since they last checked the screen and despite Nick having a radio, the lab was too far to get a signal. Catherine opened a folder and took out photographs of the rejected victims. She pinned them up on the board behind her then swung back around to face the room. "I know we don't have much to go on. But what we do know is the connection between the rejected killings and Sara's abduction. She said, feeling a little optimistic. "Did we get any prints off the 'advertisement'?"

"None. He must have been wearing gloves." Greg said, flipping through the notes in the folder.

Grissom shook his head. He turned to Sofia, "Any news regarding the deliveryman?"

"He's just a deliveryman." Sofia replied. She then pointed to the folder. "He may be someone working in or around the lab. It says here that he has been watching us reopen this case." She thought aloud. "He wants her back… some sort of an obsession, infatuation? Like how an abusive husband wants his abused wife back…"

Grissom nodded sadly, "He thinks that she belongs to him. Most likely it's someone she had made contact with in the past. We simply have to accept that. But at this moment, there's no point in wondering why. All that matters now is we get one of our own back."

No words were exchanged but each of the CSIs silently agreed.

Just then, the phone rang. Grissom pushed a button to activate the speaker on the phone.

"Brass here… Nick made it through the ventilation shaft all right, " there was a moment of silence over Brass's side of the call, as the team heave a sigh of relief.

"Nick's found something. Better check your computer screen."

* * *

Her clothes cling onto her fragile frame as she stood facing the wall. Her wrists were shackled to rings bolted to its granite surface. The restraints were levelled at her forehead where she leaned upon heavily. Nick looked at her with a heavy heart. She bore almost no resemblance to his memory of her. Her long brown hair framed her small face, falling over her battered shoulders in tangles. Flesh seemed to have melted from her face, providing new arrangement of hollows and planes. Her fearful eyes sat in her skull, sunken in from starvation. Where there had been an expression of intelligence and interest in her eyes, now there was a blank wariness. And she radiated tension rather than her familiar confidence.

Nick walked slowly towards her, repeating her name gently, trying not to scare her.

"Sara… It's me. Nick." He held out his hand in front of him, showing her his empty hands.

_A blob of grey. That's all she saw. Muffled sounds. That's all she heard._

In her drowsy, pain-induced dazed, she stood in silence, allowing him to survey her. Other than her tormentor, she had not seen another being since she was put her. She looked over her shoulder, towards his direction. Nick could see a world of weariness in her eyes, unsure of whether she heard him.

As he moved closer, Sara felt panic in her chest, a tight fist squeezing the air out of her lungs. She weakly tensed her shoulders, shutting her eyes tightly, as if waiting for the blow usually comes.

"Stop…please stop. Stop please…stop," She whispered repeatedly.

"No, no…I'm not going to hurt you." Nick assured her. His stomach tightened with anxiety and his heart swelled with empathy for this courage woman. He wanted to hug her, to protect her from the world but he couldn't. He wanted to cry out, but he didn't want to frighten her. Nothing has prepared him for this. How the hell is he going to help when his mouth was so dry, his tongue was stuck to his teeth?

"Please… someone. Please...just let me die…" She pleaded quietly, choking on her cries. She laid her head against her arms, feeling the emptiness that broken hope had left behind.

_If you care… just let me die…_

* * *

I always wondered what I would do if I'm placed in that situation. What would you do? What do you think Nick should do? 


	12. Hurt the ones we love

**Title**: In Hell with Love

**Rating**: T

**Disclaimer**: I do not own CSI or its characters. I'm just a fan

**Author's** **note**: Thanks for your reviews. I appreciate them greatly.

* * *

**Chapter 12 **

_If you care… just let me die…_

Death.

What seems like a nightmare to the normal is a dream to the damaged and the suffering.

Nick knew what it was like. To pray for death. The desire for peace. The end of all sufferings. It was his own hand that pushed the barrel of the gun to his chin.

It was hope that released the trigger, saving his life.

But by now, hope did not exist in the tragic vessel of a person known as Sara Sidle.

She wanted out.

She wanted out of this life. This suffering that she fought with for so long. She had lost all control of her being. She had lost control of life that she had to ask someone else to fulfil her suicide. Her life had lost its purpose.

She wasn't afraid to die, she was afraid to live.

Someone once said if your hand offends you, cut it off. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to go to hell. But this place was her hell. Her offensive body was in it. Her tormentor was the devil. Torture was his tools. Strangers that came to her rescue were potential grim reapers with faces she could not see or recognise. She could only hope they would be kind enough to take her life.

To set her free.

At least she didn't mistake Nick for her tormentor. She would never give whoever's responsible the satisfaction of seeing her suffer, although it was apparent that she was. Inside her mind, blinding images flashed and faded repeatedly, images of terror to whom she was the only witness, recapping the feeling of horror only she, alone experienced.

The three kidnapped victims were alive because of her. Too bad rookies send them home without investigating further.

"No harm was done to them." They would say, burying the hope deeper and deeper into the unforgiving dirt. There was nothing they could do. But in reality, there was plenty, they just didn't know it.

And now here she is. Standing before him. Hurt. Suffering. Dying. If he lets her live, does that mean he cared less? If he cared for her more, does that mean he should let her die?

_The Psychology of Torture_.

That's what the rejected killer calls it.

Beaming with pride and worry, he mercilessly swallowed his last bite of pizza, his eyes glued to the screen as rescue begins.

* * *

Nick's mind was racing at the speed of light, but his body working in slug motion. Trust was what she needed. Hope was what he was planning to give. The delivery was the problem that needed to be figured out.

Sara, on the other hand, was staring glassy-eyed at the wall. She hadn't said anything else after asking Nick to commit euthanasia. Her breathing was slow and laboured. Her chest heaved heavily as her body fought to keep her alive. Her throat was dry, painfully dry that it felt like it was stuck shut. She tried to clear her windpipe but nothing will come loose. She coughed and coughed, tasting the metallic ooze of her own blood at the back of her throat.

In her fatigue state, she could hear a voice. She understood the words but couldn't quite put them together. She turned to her side once again, focusing on the ink blob of a person behind her, watching him make strange hand gestures as his faded voice rant on.

She found that odd. No one had taken the time or effort to tell her anything since she'd been here.

She felt that, it had to be a dream.

Nick was determined. He had lost her once, and he's not going to lose her again. He walked towards her, watching her head turn painfully towards him. Blood oozing from the wound that lined her brow, dripping from her chin to the floor. _How long had she been bleeding like this?_

That wasn't her only injury. The closer he was, the more her injuries became apparent. The back of her black sleeveless top glisten a maroon glow, reflecting the light that came through the door. Lesions, straight and long, were visible on her shoulder blades, but Nick knew that there was more hidden. Her feet were blistered due to prolong standing and environmental exposure. The back of her knees were scraped and bruised. Her arms were a bloody mess of deep cuts, sores and burns. The knuckles on her hands were worn out, most likely sustained from self-defence.

_That's my Sara,_ Nick though, _taking crap from no one, fighting till the end_.

Nick took his flashlight to shed some light onto her left arm.

There was a word carved deeply into her arm, so deep that some of their letterings were still bleeding. A single word:

**Approved**

"Oh Sara… What did he do to you?" An aura of empathy flowed out of Nick's voice.

She felt it. _A question. Even though she did know what it was about, she hadn't heard anyone ask her a question in a long time._

_Sara wasn't even sure if he was talking to her._

"I'll get him. I'll make him pay for what he did to you. Okay Sara? I'll get him" He growled protectively, a growl that ushered from the very depths of his hatred for that man who did this.

_Better yet, this ink blob wanted to do something **for** her, not something **to** her._

Emotion swelled in her heart and gut, she was afraid her body would burst. The closer he came to her, the more sense he made to her eyes. She was human, and being treated like one. For the first time in a long while, she felt like she mattered.

_She mattered to someone._

Nick noticed a tired calm taking over her body, like she was getting used to being scared. He let out a relieved sigh, a little glad that she wasn't as terrified as when she first saw him. He reached out for her restraints. Her chains were shackled to rings bolted to the wall, there was no way he could get her out without using any power tools. They'll have to wait for the vault doors to open.

He turned back to face Sara.

She was shivering, the freezing air in the room slicing through her. Her hands were numb as far as Nick could tell, her fingers kept curling from the cold as she fought maintain feeling in her hands. He immediately took off his cap and placed it carefully onto her head, trying not to hurt her further.

It was impossible though.

Her skin was so sensitive that it felt as if pins and needles were being pushed deeper and deeper into her scalp. _A mental lobotomy, psychosurgery_; the warmth of the cap filled her brain, like hot wax flowing onto her skull. Sara clammed her eyes shut, trying not to cry.

Nick then took out his outer jacket and placed it onto her battered shoulders. She flinched a little. Her pain was unbearable at this stage, but she was too weak to move. She had no mental energy to spend on anything, let alone physical energy. But despite not moving an inch, the heavy jacket slipped off Sara's shoulders, painfully glazing every wound along its descent. Her restraints had made it impossible to wrap his jacket on her.

Sara looked up and drew in a sharp breath. Tears began rampaging down her face, burning her eyes. The pain had turned the darkness around her green for a moment, an optical illusion born of exhaustion, panic and physical pain. She could hear her heart beating but it sounded stranger, deeper and faster than she expected it. If this was a dream, the pain didn't wake her up. She closed her eyes in desperation and tried to imagine it all away. The pain, the restraints, the helpful ink blob… trying to find her way back to the waking world…

If she could remember how it was...

Nick apologised profusely. "I know it hurts, but we got to keep you warm, you're hypothermic." He began to wrap the long sleeves of his jacket around her neck "The pain will go away—I promise." He said, feeling dismayed that his act of kindness was hurting her. Nick continued to tie the sleeves together, but stopped when Sara looked down and shook her head gently, sobbing in a low moan. A wave of worry washed over him as he took a closer look at her neck.

There were bruises where a rope had left its angry mark behind.

The bastard had tried to strangle Sara. More than once.

Sara couldn't handle it anymore. The dream world was a hell of fire. Reality was pain and torture. She clenched her fist tightly, her body screamed with pain with every beat of her heart. She felt as if she was being pulled to pieces. Exhausted, she cried, that was all she had the strength for. Her tears fell to the ground like acid rain, blurring her vision.

In a sense of urgency, Nick wrapped floored jacket around her, one sleeve over her shoulder, the other under her arm. He then zipped up the jacket to the middle of her torso, at the same time, looking around the room for medical supplies the killer had promised.

_Nick…How dare you… how dare you promise to keep someone safe when you can't even keep your word?_

Painful, mean voices echoed in the back of his head, mocking him.

_Pancho, Pancho, Pancho._

_You promised to come running._

Nick's hands were clammy with sweat, chest tight with anxiety. What if this was his punishment for making empty promises to a person he cares about? What if this was his punishment for not trying hard enough to find her? What if this was his punishment for living? He looked around the room for the supplies; Sara's sobs breaking his heart.

_Pancho, Pancho, Pancho._

The words continue to taunt him, pounding in his head, following the rhythm of his heart.

She shouted those words in the hope that he would come. He didn't. He showed up late. And now, she didn't know if he's genuine or a dream. Real or fake. Friend or foe. With all the care in his heart, he couldn't even grant her only wish.

To let her die. To let her go.

He shoved the thought away, to ignore it, but it kept coming back. It haunted him. She was in this state because of him. _His fault._

After running from wall to wall searching, he found a box next to a wine barrel. A red cross was painted on its surface, looking more like a target rather than a medical sign. Its dust-laden presence was a welcoming sight, radiating its own unique aura.

_At last! At last, something blissful and kind in this hellhole._

Nick pried the box opened with all his might, a drive that surged from the pit of his gut. He expected the fresh scent of hydrogen peroxide, white gauzes, sterile patches and sanitary items, but instead, he was face to face with about half a dozen syringes, bearing the label:

**Heroin.**

There were about 4 empty syringes among them, leaving Nick to wonder what Sara's tormentor had used them for. Etched on the inside of the box among the vials of the addictive drug, he had left Nick a note. A note that simply said…

_**We always hurt the ones we love.**_

**TBC_

* * *

_**

Hope you enjoyed this chapter.

Till next time...


	13. A Dream

**Title**: In Hell with Love

**Rating**: T

**Disclaimer**: I do not own CSI or its characters. I'm just a fan

**Author's** **note**: The previous chapter was the first time I got 10 reviews. That's the most I ever gotten for a chapter. Thank you all who reviewed, you have a special place in my heart. I'm not really the kind of person who begs for reviews, but I have to admit, they do make me happy. Haha. Hope you'll enjoy this chapter.

* * *

**Chapter 13**

_**We always hurt the ones we love.**_

I was told once, that we always hurt the ones we love and trust because we'll always trust that they'll love us back. Sounds like a load of crap, but sometimes it does apply. We do it because we can be selfish, stupid and cruel sometimes. I think it hurts coming from the ones you love because it would be intensely difficult to cause the same amount of emotional pain in a stranger.

It's so easily done, even if we don't mean to. Our love ones, the ones we care about… they trust and depend on us, making it easier for us to let them down, and harder for us and them to take.

* * *

Nick stared at the phase wide-eyed, almost forgetting to breathe. He grazed his fingers over its impressions, making sure they were real, rubbing each letter as if they held the next clue. 

They were real all right. The pain in his chest was agonising feeling of the words being graven on his heart.

He heard imaginary chuckling in his head. The laughter of the killer. Pointing and making fun of him. This was a matter of life and death, and he made it into a game.

_A game for his own personal twisted amusement._

"Nick!" a loud crackled voice spoke directly toward his ear. His skin literally crawled, ripples of goose flesh undulating up his arm and down his spine. The radio on his vest came to life, at the worst possible moment ever. He took several uneasy steps back, the tingling sensation wearing off as he tries to maintain his balance.

"Now's not a good time!" Nick shouted into the radio. His unsteady hands were still shaking from shock as he rummaged around, looking for more medical supplies. "The medical supplies that he promised? That's bull. There's nothing but heroin."

Nick kicked a wine barrel out of frustration. There was a rustle of tiny padded feet behind him. Rats ran in wild directions, disappearing into holes in a desperate attempt in avoiding Nick's wrath. A moment of silence told him that Warrick and Brass were transferring the message back to the gang in the lab.

"Nick… Listen up." Warrick suddenly said with a hint of authority in his voice. "Sara's fading fast. This is what we're going to do…"

-------------

On unsteady, tired feet, Sara caught herself from falling for the umpteenth time. She had lost her balance again, her knees almost giving way under her weight. The floor beneath her was cold against her bare and blistered feet, cold enough to make her toes curl. Her sticky blood pooled around her feet like melted wax, adding to its chill. She heard a tumble of wood behind her and tried to turn around but she moved so slowly. She gave up, and instead stared at the wall she was chained to, watching as her vision merged the lines and cracks into one deluded blur.

Whoever came to help her had gone elsewhere, leaving her with nothing but a cap and a layer of his skin around her body. It's fabric caressed her skin painfully, the moisture of her blood sticking it all over her body. She shivered uncontrollably, but less than before. The clothes had retained heat, enough to keep her alive for a little while more. After spending so long in depths of god-knows-where, she had forgotten what warmth could really feel like.

Fatigue sapped her energy for a moment and she had to blink rapidly to clear her head. She felt extremely tired, her eyelids were like lead dragging over her eyes. The feeling refused to leave her, a wash of listlessness made her body so heavy that she had to lean against the wall for support. Her neck ached with the weight of holding up her head. She shifted uncomfortably, trying to sense the helpful presence that was with her a moment ago.

There was nothing. She was alone now.

Her chest heaved painfully and she began to sob despairingly.

_Was that moment real? Did someone come to rescue her, or was it just her imagination?_

Her forehead leaned against her bound wrist, excruciating pain swelled within her as her wounds pressed against the wall. She didn't care anymore. Everything else was better than the feeling of hope tearing away from her. She gasped in agony, the images around her blurred and she had lost all sensation. The pounding at the front of her head filled her world and took over her soul. She couldn't fight, she couldn't even utter a meek protest.

And then, everything went black.

-------------

The darkness claimed her, darkness more profound than the darkness she'd ever experienced inside this room. The only difference was that there was no fear in this place. Her restraints were gone. Sara felt no ground below her, nothing on either side of her, nothing above her. She lay motionless, confused…

Then something appeared out of the darkness.

A light. A light that was different from the one that shone through the door in her dark prison. A dim orange glow that was like a flame on a candlewick, glowing in solitary, alone in the dark with her. It waved and flickered for a moment as if she breathed too hard towards its direction, but then it returned back to normal. She reached out for it, trying to keep it alive, not wanting it to blink out of existence. She knew that, if she didn't do anything, she'd be alone.

She didn't want to be alone again.

The glow grew as she gave her will to it. She was glad, the happiest she had ever been in a long time. It grew like the light at the end of a tunnel, giving off enough light for her to see where she was.

She was sitting in the break room in the lab. The glow that she thought she was nurturing was hanging on the ceiling above her. She looked around, her vision in a tint of light blue, almost cold. Everything was the way she remembered it. Everything was where it was suppose to be. She smelled the heavy aroma of coffee. She heard the soles of shoes hitting the ground and lab coats flapping in the corridor. She didn't know where they were going.

Sara frowned in confusion and stood up slowly. She felt light like she was in experiencing zero gravity on the moon. She realised that she didn't know what she was doing before this moment and she wasn't sure what to do next. She walked out to the corridor, towards the sounds of human life.

In the blink of an eye, she was in the middle of the corridor, as if the few seconds that took her to walk through the door was erased from her memory. People in lab coats walked passed her, barely touching her. She couldn't see their faces, features smudged beyond comprehension. No one acknowledged her, no one looked at her direction. She felt isolated, alone. She wanted to cry but the tears never came. She looked beyond the lab coats towards the windows of the rooms reflecting images of her.

Clean, professional and healthy. Like nothing had ever happened.

As she walked closer to one of the windows, the flow of people suddenly stopped. She felt complied to touch one of her reflections. She lifted her arm towards it. A bloody, injured hand came to view. She turned her palm towards her, watching her reflection doing the same thing at the corner of her eye. Her reflection had clean hands. She knew she was shocked and horrified but her brain was slow to register. She felt detached and dissociated. Her body had yet to feel pain.

Images inside her mind flashed and faded again, like the flashes from a camera.

_On and off, on and off._

The images brighten further, hurting her eyes. Dreadful clarity and detail, forming shapes, patterns, taking sequence.

_Sound. _

Her world had been quiet till now. Sound flooded her mind, synching noise with pictures. _Shouting, screaming, cursing, clanging, banging, crashing, punching, hitting, bashing, fighting._ Sara covered her ears to get the noise out of her head, trying to shut them out. Then, the unexplainable happened. Images, motion, sound and noise inside her mind had pushed her into a whole new world...

_Feeling._

It's happening again. Over and over again. _Pain, suffering, shock, torment, torture, misery, sadness, agony, anguish, heartache, hurt, distress, grief, loneliness_ and oh God my God the pain ripping her skin, tearing her flesh.

Her tears continued to flow even as she clamped her eyes shut. She covered her ears tightly in her hands but sound seeped through. She cried out to anyone who would listen, but nobody came…

A foreign scream suddenly arose from somewhere, from nowhere. Her eyes shot opened. Her surrounding had changed. She felt like she was somewhere in the lab, but at the same time, she was in her underground prison. She was leaning against the wall, in a sitting position, not knowing how she got here or how she ended up in that position. There were no windows in sight, no doors, no way out.

A person stood before her, the light against his back. Sara knew full well who it was.

Without a word, he grabbed her neck tightly, obstructing her airway.

"No," she managed to shout before she coughed and coughed until she could speak anymore. "This isn't real. This is just a dream!" She could barely breathe. Her body cried out for mercy._ Is this_ _real? Her own dream was hurting her_. She tried to clear her throat and blink her eyes, trying to reconcile where she was in waking life. It wasn't easy.

She couldn't remember.

She saw his lips move before thrusting the knife at her, hitting her hard in her left shoulder. Her lungs grew dry and shredded inside her chest as she sucked in air to scream.

Her world had turned black again. In the darkness, she heard a voice in her head.

_I got you Sara. I got you…_

It was more of a comfort than a taunt. She felt her legs wobble beneath her, which confused her because she thought she seated against the wall. Her entire midsection screamed in pain as arms wrapped around her body in a protective embrace.

-------------

Nick caught Sara as her legs gave way. "I got you Sara. I got you. You're all right. You're alright."

Nick moved into a position that was comfortable for both of them. He stood between the wall and Sara. Her bound wrists near the back of his head, his neck in-between. Her arms were resting on either side of his broad shoulders, while his arms were around her body. Nick held her in a warm hug, keeping her close to him, serving as both her support and heat insulation. Sara's head leaned heavily upon Nick's shoulder. He didn't mind that her blood seeped onto his white shirt. He could feel the warm liquid pooling onto his shoulder, making him embraced her tighter, afraid that if he didn't, he would lose her forever.

Nick felt the heat of her forehead against his neck. She was burning up with a fever but she was hypothermic. _This doesn't make any sense_. Nick didn't understand at first, but as he looked towards her left shoulder, he realised the problem.

A wound on her shoulder had become infected. Its surrounding area was red and warm. An accumulation of pus had form a yellow line on the wound. Stitches, unprofessionally sewn were visible.

An untidy mess of black thread, forming letters of X and Y.

Whether her tormentor used painkillers or not, Nick didn't know. He looked towards Sara. Her eyes were closed, eyeballs moving within its sockets in an attempt to get some painless rest. Solidified blood covered her cheeks, flaking off against his shirt and her hair. She had a nosebleed and her breathing reduced to slow gasps, her broken ribs rubbing against his torso. Nick wondered if he should cause her any more pain.

Slowly, he took a piece of cloth from his pocket and doused it with a bottle of alcohol that he took from a wine barrel in the cellar. He hesitated before pressing it against her wound, trying his best to clean it as painlessly as possible. It burned like corrosive acid on skin. Sara screamed in agony.

The pain woke her up and bent her double at the same time. It made her want to pass out even as it brought her fully to consciousness. She cried into Nick's shoulder, tears staining red as it mixed with her blood.

Sara's body leaned against him heavily, shaking more violently as the fatigue and pain increased. Nick held her as he continued to clean her wound, whispering apologies to reassure her that everything's going to be okay. His voice changed as he spoke, the Texan accent coarsening, sounding kind but fragile at the same time. She knew that voice. She knew him. Even though she couldn't see him clearly, she knew it was him.

"Hang in there, Sara. Be strong for me okay? I'm here for you. I'll keep you safe…" It was the nicest thing anyone had ever said to her. A nice, final thought to leave this place with.

_Wait a minute…_

Without warning, flashbacks surged into her head, hitting her brain at full force. The memories raped her mental state. _The alley, the shot, this place, her endless calling, her silent replies…_

_You're not really here._ She thought. _It's not possible_. She didn't understand—how could he be here, if she was wide awake?

_A dream?_

She did dream of him once in a while, but this, his actual presence in real life, was quite impossible.

_You're not real… A long time ago, you died. _

**TBC

* * *

**

_For all those confused, Sara thought Nick died in "the other room" in chapter 10. All this while, she couldnt really see Nick and only thought of him as an "ink blob"_

_FYI. The stab that Sara got from her tormentor can be found in chapter 10._


	14. Choices

**Title**: In Hell with Love

**Rating**: T

**Disclaimer**: I do not own CSI or its characters. I'm just a fan

**Author's note: **A big 'thank you' goes out to apcJodi, necira, gt4good, maricejayo, Gear's Girl, prpleflipnhippo and Meg-Breanne for their reviews. Without you guys, I don't think I'll be able to continue this story.

* * *

**Chapter 14**

"_Nick… Listen up." Warrick suddenly said with a hint of authority in his voice. "Sara's fading fast. This is what we're going to do…"_

_Nick looked worriedly towards Sara's direction. _

"_Take a wine bottle… Use the wine to clean any wounds Sara has. It would hurt a lot, but it'll help with any infections."_

"_Ok, got it." Nick grabbed a bottle from the rack, holding it under his arm. He tore the cleanest part of his shirt and shoved the cloth into his pocket. "Anything else?"_

_Nick heard a sigh over the radio. "Nick… bring the heroin with you… You may have to use it."_

"_What?!" Nick said, not believing what he just heard. "Have you lost it Warrick? I can't give Sara heroin! It could kill her…"_

"_It could also save her life! Don't you see? She's in a lot of pain." Warrick's sudden outburst caught Nick off guard for a moment. "Heroin can be used as a painkiller. It acts like morphine… but you have to be careful not to overdose her."_

"_Warrick, he may have used the heroin on her before." Nick rubbed his eyes with his thumb and middle finger, trying to comprehend what Warrick was telling him to do. "There are about 4 empty syringes in the box." _

_Silence._

"_Warrick, did you hear what I said?"_

"_Yeah… yeah I did." A moment of static filled the room for a few seconds. "You have to ask Sara when was her last dose given… if she has develop a tolerance to the drug… you'll have to give her a higher dose."_

_Nick shook his head. " I don't think I can do this."_

"_She's suffering. That's the only thing we got to lessen her pain. If we wait for the vault doors to open, she might die from the pain by then." Warrick replied. _

_Nick didn't know what to say. He didn't have anything to say._

"_Nick… I know it's hard. If you do give the heroin to her, an overdose is possible… Hell… she might even fall into a coma. But if you don't, she will go into shock. And given her condition and health… if she were to experience heroin withdrawal…...a sudden withdrawal can be fatal…" Warrick's sad and broken voice sounded over the radio on Nick's shoulder. _

"_You have to chose, Nick. Do what you think it right…"_

--------------------

_How am I supposed to choose, between 2 wrong choices?_

"Hang in there, Sara. Be strong for me okay? I'm here for you. I'll keep you safe…"

Nick whispered gently into Sara's ear, still pondering over his decision. He did his best to treat some of her wounds with the medical supplies he brought with him but they weren't enough. He checked her breathing rate every few minutes, watching her, hurting to breathe. It pained him to see her this way.

"Sara? Sara, I know you're tired, but I need to ask you something, okay?" Nick tilted his head to the side to see if she had heard him. Sara opened her eyes slowly, tears balancing precariously on her lower eyelids. She didn't look at Nick but answered his question with a nod. One single, tired nod.

That was good enough for Nick. "I know it's going to be hard for you to talk, but I need you to tell me when was the last time you were given a dose."

Sara blinked slowly. "A… a dose?"

"A dose of heroin… one of these?" Nick took out a syringe from his pocket and placed it in her field of vision. "Do you remember when this was given to you?"

He felt his skin shift under his shirt as Sara turned her heavy head to get a better look at the object in his hand. "That…that, um… he gave me that when…when… uh…" She closed her eyes, thinking about it. "I got that…when he—he stabbed… no… when he burn… he burned Michele's face. After he burned…"

Sara started to break down, as the broken pieces of her memory pounded against her head. "Oh my gosh… I'm so sorry…I'm so sorry…"

Nick placed the syringe back into his pocket and looked up towards the direction of the door, where the light pooled onto the floor. A wooden chair that was bolted to the floor was centralised within the light. He hadn't noticed it before as he had his full attention on Sara the moment he entered the room. The chair was facing a burnt spot, evil and black as sin, a few steps away. His jaw dropped as he came to a conclusion.

_Sara knew the burnt woman in the study, and she watched as he killed her. _

It hurts to cry, but she couldn't help it. Nick held on to her sobbing form to comfort her but Sara had a tenuous hold on her emotion.

"Hey. Hey, you have nothing to be sorry about. It's not your fault. Do you hear me?" Nick took his eyes off the chair and towards her. "You did good, okay. Okay?"

Sara took a deep breath, trying to regain control of her emotion. Nick used the time to radio Warrick, asking him to do a missing person search on a "Michele", the name of their victim in the study. He also asked for her time of death.

_"Are you serious? Sara knew our victim."_ Judging by his voice over the radio, Nick didn't really know if Warrick was upset, angry or both. He continued, _"It's hard to say… given the cold temperature… but according to her liver temp, I'll have to say about 8 hours ago."_

The effects of heroin tend to wear off after about 6 hours.

Nick was afraid of that. "Okay. Okay…Thanks Warrick."

"_Nick…"_ The radio radiated with the concerned sound of Warrick's voice. "_Let Sara know—… tell Sara to live so that she could look at that bastard in the eye and tell him to go to hell. Okay, Nick? Would you tell her that for me?"_

"You can tell her that when we get out of here alive." Nick reassured Warrick.

He laughed nervously. "_Of course. See you both later then."_

--------------------

Nick looked at his watch. **20 minutes left**. A lot could happen in 20 minutes. Its amazed him how simple minutes could drag extensively in situations like these. He took the syringe back out of his pocket hesitantly and gently expelled its air bubbles.

He had made his decision.

"Sara, I'm going to give you something for the pain okay? You're going to be all right." He said, heavy-laden over his deadly choice.

"Will it… will it be quick?" Sara said in her hoarse, broken voice. The desire to die still on her mind. "It'll be over… soon, soon I'll die. Oh god… this pain will…end."

"The pain will end." Nick encouraged her, hugging her close, slowing injecting the hurtful drug into her bloodstream. "But I need you to do something for me. I need you to live. I need you to fight for your life like I did when I was taken and put into a box. Could you do that?"

Her vacant eyes stared into nothing. "… I have been…. dying since we were taken. I wake… up at times so afraid…so terrified that I could…could not be that afraid while awake…" Tears slid down Sara's face as her brow drawn in pain. "It has taken its toll… I have come to…hate this life… this… system of things… I have come to have…no hope."

_We?_

A sob rose in his throat, but he forced it back, shutting his eyes tight to stop his tears. He had wanted to save her the moment he had known she was lost. He knew that there was a time when she had truly believed that he could protect her, even though she had pleaded for him to let her die. He felt horrible knowing that she thought he was with her all this while, suffering and hurt like her, when in reality, he wasn't.

Nick cleared his throat, thinking back on his own tragedies. "I know what it's like to wake up and wish you were dead. Your head throbbing as you live your life, knowing that you never wanted this. I know how it feels to want to give up, how it's like to feel afraid all the time. Like right now, I'm afraid of losing you. But I know that there is survival at the end of all of this. Even though you still feel awful, I know that there's a future, there's a hope. I don't know if you were watching but when I was in that box, I pointed the gun to my chin. At that moment I wanted to die... i just wanted to curl up and die, but you and the gang dug me out. I was saved. I guess I'm feeling sort of glad that I didn't kill myself that night."

Nick saw recognition flicker in her eyes, the memories forming like pieces on a jigsaw puzzle. Her body was in agony; she was dying. But the corner of her mouth twitched a little, almost a smile but not quite there yet.

He spoke to her again, encouraged by her response. "I'm sorry for the promises I made but didn't keep, like coming to protect you when you're in danger or afraid. I'm sorry for the moments when you felt alone in this place, thinking no one cares if you lived or died. I'm sorry that you're hurting this bad…that I wasn't there for you when you needed someone. Well… I'm here now. I'm right here."

The tears continued to slid down the sides of her nose, as the thought of his existence still an illusion in her mind. She was getting tired, making it hard for her to form a sentence. "You…can't be. You're dead… I wish…I wish you had never come… why do you… come now?"

"I came for you." He whispered, leaning closer still, her remarks burning a hole in his heart. "I promised to save you, remember? I just got lost along the way. Now I need you to help me keep my promise. Could you do that? I know it's hard, but I need you to try."

The drug was beginning to take its effect. Nick wasn't exactly sure if she could think rationally anymore, as the heroin dulled her mind and body. Her head lolled heavily onto his shoulder.

Her soul felt like it was being tugged on a string, her dying heart beating faster. She felt him close to her, holding her, her own angel of death. Knowing that comforted and scared her at the same time. Sara felt air rush into her lungs and a sickening pain twisted through her, making the world spin around her again. "Okay…" she began, the word catching in her throat, her chest heaving with the effort of trying to speak.

"_The doors will open soon and we'll be rescued. I won't leave you; I won't let anyone hurt you anymore. I'll show you that it'll get better every day you stay alive…"_

Sara didn't know whether it was a voice in her head or her saviour speaking, as pain, fear and anxiety dissipate. "Okay…" she replied, her smile was exquisitely sad as she looked at him, and a single lone tear sliding down his face, his lips mouthing, _"I'm here for you."_

He hugged her close as time slowed down. The feeling of being wrapped in God's warmest blanket consumed her, and the darkness overwhelmed her again…

**TBC**

* * *

_Sometimes, that 's all people want to hear. That you'll be there for them... _

_Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Till next time... _


	15. The rescue

**Title**: In Hell with Love

**Rating**: T

**Disclaimer**: I do not own CSI or its characters. I'm just a fan

**Author's note: **So sorry for the delay. Thank you all for your patience. For those who reviewed (_wraiths-angel, ilovekc, Gear's Girl, Meg-Breanne, jdcocoagirl, necira, JessicaDelko, apcJodi and xoSNICKERLOVExo_), your encouragements had saved me from a bad case of writers block. Thank you. Oh…I almost forgot, **JessicaDelko**, you were my 100th review.

* * *

**Chapter 15**

**--------------- **

_Now I lay me down to sleep, _

_I pray the Lord my soul to keep. _

_If I should die before I wake, _

_I pray the Lord my soul to take. _

---------------

"So… you're Michele." Warrick said as he dusted an area in the study for prints. The body said nothing, empty as a shell and as quiet as air around them. He sighed heavily, watching as the fingerprinting powder hovered around the clean surface. There were no usable prints. The evidence had been wiped clean. There was nothing to point him to a suspect. He could only imagined the look of the faceless victim, watching him in disappointment as her attacker roams free in this world.

He placed his tools back into his kit, closing it shut. Defeat had never felt so bitter, his purpose in this case was disturbing and his talents were questionable. He began to wonder what he was doing here. He was useless, unhelpful; there was no point in being here. A drop of melted time flowed slowly, as he stood where he was. "Did Sara mention anything about us when she was with you?" He asked the only other body in the room. Silence answered as he picked his kit off the floor. He continued anyway. "Do you think she'll remember us?" Warrick could only imagined a reply in his head as he looked towards the body, the body of Sara's friend. He had so many questions for her— questions about the case, about the killer… about Sara. Warrick wasn't the kind of CSI who talks to the dead, but for that moment, he felt complied to. He owed it to 'Michele'.

"Thank you… thank you for taking care of Sara when we couldn't."

He knew that she would like to tell him everything. She would want him to know everything she and Sara had gone through. But she can't.

Not now, not ever.

* * *

With his back against the wall, Nick looked towards the light coming through the door. Even in this dark, grim room, he noticed that its rays were growing stronger and brighter, a symbol of good things to come; the vault doors would be opening soon and in no time, they would be rescued. Sara would get the help she needs, and everything would get back to normal.

_Or would it? What exactly is normalcy? What would normal mean to Sara? _

It was probably best if he didn't think about it. Instead, he spoke to her for several minutes about nothing. Anyone who never had the need for someone would find it strange and annoying, but it wasn't the case at all. There they stood, he, pouring his heart out to her and she, listening and taking in his words. It was something beyond any other feeling that was ever felt and Sara knew that he would keep her alive as long as he could. Her body had been so weak for days; it was a miracle that her life had extended this long. All she needed to do was to hold on. Nick spoke until the drugs took effect and Sara closed her eyes. He took pride in the fact that during this time, he had tried his hardest to be optimistic and encouraging. But it was only when her eyes were shut that he truly broken down and wept.

---------------

Wiping his tears that were coating his cheeks with the back of his hand, Nick carefully shifted his position a little to look at the time, begging the minute hand in his watch to speed up. _Anytime now, in a few moments_, he mentally told himself; he was sure of it. But even with this thought in his head, time dragged slowly like a heavy sack of doubt. He gently looked towards Sara to check on her. Her eyes were still closed and her breathing heavily laboured. Nick couldn't really tell if she was asleep or just resting her eyes. It probably wasn't the best idea to let a dying person sleep, but whenever he mastered the courage to wake Sara up from her much-needed rest, a spasm of pain would jerk her body against his. Not a violent twitch, more of like a nudge against Nick's torso; her minor sign of life that came with the heavy rhythm of her breathing.

Nick smiled. At least he knew that she was still alive and hanging in there.

* * *

"The EMTs are here. There's a chopper waiting outside to get Sara to Desert Palm's hospital." Brass said as soon as Warrick walked out of the room. "How are you holding up?"

Warrick gave him the thumb's up. The butterflies in his stomach had morphed into fully grown winged creatures, so much so that if he had answered Brass's question, he was certain that they would have flown out of his mouth. "Got the tools ready?" He managed to ask, swallowing hard.

Brass held up a metal toolbox like a construction worker eager to have his lunch. "Ready when you are."

As if those were the special secret words needed to move on, the two men turned towards the groan of stress metal, as locks on the vault doors broke free …

* * *

Nick stood in silence, enjoying the present moment, letting care and concern fill up the empty space left behind by pain and torture. The friend he thought he had lost a long time ago was in his arms, helping him, with the best of her abilities, to keep a promise that he couldn't fulfil in the past.

He tenderly rubbed his cheek against Sara's head, comforting her with simple actions that only a friend could provide. He was getting nervous, his guts in knots; tied up in a good way. It had been a year and a half since Sara went missing, and they had finally found her. He held her close, imagining the teams' reactions, the joy they would feel when they see her. He knew it would take time for Sara to recover, but at least she had them; she'll have the team to pull her out of hell. That was enough to put a small smirk on his face._ We've missed you._ He thought aloud. _Everything's going to be okay, I swear_. It was just a matter of time before her life would be back to normal. Excitement bubbled inside of him and he let out a gasp of happiness. The vault doors were opening! The wind entering through the doors seemed to catch his mood and the stars outside sparkled as though they were all for Sara and no one else. This was her time, the miracle they have all been waiting for. "Sara… The doors…" he said eagerly, as he tiled his head to see her response. His smile dissolved as fast as it formed as he found out that something was wrong. For that moment, he felt nothing moving against his heart.

Sara had stop breathing.

* * *

Brass grabbed the 3-point handle of the vault doors and gave it a pull. The heavy doors opened with a sigh, moving a slowly as an old man walking across the street. Warrick impatiently ran through once the gap was large enough, almost falling down the poorly made stairs that Nick told him about. He managed to recover within the same second, skipping two steps at a time with Brass and two paramedics close behind.

"Nick! Where are you?" Warrick yelled as he ran into the middle of the room, his eyes absorbing every detail of the wine cellar. He watched Brass as he ran ahead towards an open door, the door that led to the room where Nick fell through the ventilation shaft moments ago. Broken crates laid everywhere, but there was no sign of them. He felt the pounding of his heart in his chest and in his ears. They were deafening, loud enough that he was sure Brass could hear it too.

"W-Warrick— over h-here"

_Did you hear that?_ Both men turned towards each other before running towards the sound of Nick's voice. Warrick entered the hidden room first. His heart stopped, the sight of the room overwhelming him, destroying his ability to think. Sara! _Oh my Gosh_. He stood, in silence, not knowing what to do.

"What are you waiting for? Help me get her out of here." Nick shouted, bringing him back to reality. Warrick looked at the toolbox he had in his hands, not knowing how it got there in the first place.He thought Brass had it. _But at least it's something_, he thought as he ran towards Nick and Sara, with an aim to get her out of those restraints.

A paramedic came towards them with a BVM resuscitator. Nick lolled Sara's head back, amazed at his mind's automatic response in this situation. He could feel the device forcing air into her lungs as the paramedic compressed the bag in a steady rhythm. This can't be real. God, in his heaven, wouldn't be so cruel to take Sara away just as He returned her to them. His world seemed heavy, and for a moment, he didn't understand what was going on. Warrick was saying something, Brass was asking something, and the paramedics were uttering some medical jargon to each other. None of it made any sense. The thoughts that he had earlier broke in two, sitting on his shoulders like the angel and the devil. _She will not die, she will die. It's not your fault, it's your fault._

_She would find out that you lied; everything's not okay. _

He tilted his head back, hitting his head against the wall. Probably a little too hard, but he didn't care. Maybe he would be able to feel half of the pain that she was in; maybe then he could take some away. Nick couldn't understand how could anyone hurt another person like this every moment of everyday. It hurt him to see anything in pain, let alone someone that he cares so much for. It just doesn't make any sense. He just didn't know. He just didn't know what to do.

But... he did know one thing. As Warrick struggled to free Sara; as the paramedic pumped oxygen into her lungs, he would hold on to her, hanging on to her as long as possible. If she could absorbed him, he would release himself into her soul, knowing that this might be the last time he would see her. _He had to believe she'd make it out alive_. She was part of the CSI team—all part of a family bound by love and a minuscule thing called faith. They all had faith in each other, just none in themselves.

With the tools he had in his blistered hands, Warrick had managed to release the restraints. Nick lowered her onto the stretcher, holding her hand as they walked out of the room and out of the house. The moon was still new as the witching hour drew near. He turned to look at the glowing sphere, knowing that it was watching and felt proud at what they had accomplished. The air in the desert was frightening cold and vacant. But even in the chill of night, the stars managed to spread their warmth over them. The same stars that had witness her abduction.

"Nick... go with her. Don't worry about the scene. I'll cover for you." Warrick shouted over the helicopter's engine.

Brass shielded his eyes from the swirling wind. "That extra seat is for you. We'll meet up at Desert Palm, okay? Take care of her."

The 2 men encouraged Nick to get onto the chopper with Sara, sorry that they could not go along but happy knowing that he was with her and that she was with him. It was better knowing that than worrying. An incredible gust of wind flew by as the medical helicopter prepared to fly, whipping Nick in the face and barrelling into his heart. He thanked them and took his place beside Sara, her hand still safely inside of his own. Over the whirling of the blades, he promised to take good care of her, putting up his bravest front in front of them.

But as the helicopter ascended, he immediately burst into tears. He hadn't meant to, but it was no use. Her petite figure was broken, bruised and bloodied from everything she had gone through. The life-saving techniques that were meant to sustain her were hurting her already weak body. "You'll get through this," he chanted softly to Sara. "Everything's going to be okay." Glancing outside for a moment, he noticed the city's lights were shining brightly. The city of sin was looking especially angelic right now.

_"Everything's going to be okay… I swear." _

He poured his soul into each word. Nick spoke out to her, hoping to God that, in some way, she could hear him. This was for her, all for her. Every breath that left his body was for her. That was what made it all right; everything was real. Even hope seemed possible.

---------------

Finally, the helicopter landed and they were at the hospital. He had held on to her tightly until it was time, the time to let go. A nurse shoved Nick roughly as Sara's gurney wheeled down the bright hallway and he lost grip of her hand. He tried pushing his way through but they wouldn't let him go any further. He stood at the other side of the glass window, unable to move, knowing that she was in pain and there was nothing he could do. Holding back tears, he tried to be calm, yelling inside for death to leave Sara alone.

The nurses were running around, grabbing bags of clear liquid and blood. Someone was poking a hole into Sara's veins, while another was attaching things to her skin. Two masked men were taking turns, forcing air into her lungs and pushing down on her broken ribs. Doctors were preparing to shock her with electricity. Others were doing things to her that he could not understand. As if Sara hadn't endured enough suffering, she had to go through this.

_Don't hurt her. Please stop hurting her… _

He watched and cried violently to himself. People around him hurriedly by, heading to destinations unknown. Many ignored him; others gave him awkward glares, as if his reactions were forbidden in the area where he stood. It was useless to think of his appearance now. Voices, many voices, hung around him. And all he wanted to hear was hers.

_Now as they lay her down to sleep, _

_He prays the Lord her soul to keep. _

_If she should die before she wakes…_

He watched until the very end of their treatment, sobbing loudest when they took her away from view. Nick felt someone prodding him in the shoulder. It was one of the doctors that were in the room with Sara. He hated this moment; the moment where they would give him the news of life and death. He would have to understand that they had done all they could. He listened through muffled ears as the medicine man gave him Sara's prognosis. Hot tears streamed down his cheeks and plummeted into his hands as the doctor patted his shoulder and walked away.

If the walls had ears, they have heard it all before. Within the hospital, some left, others died, many lived and a great majority got steadily worse. _All she needed to do was to hold on._ Nick fell onto his knees and sobbed for the longest time because today, the angel of death had passed over Desert Palms…

And Sara had been spared.

**TBC**

**

* * *

**

She lives! Sorry for the delay. I would have posted this a few days ago, but I keep getting the fanfiction error thingy. I had to export another story in order to update. I'm really annoyed.

P.S At first I thought of killing Sara off, but i thought it was a bad idea. I'm still thinking about it though. Let's see how it goes.


	16. Medical Exam

**Title**: In Hell with Love

**Rating**: T

**Disclaimer**: I do not own CSI or its characters. I'm just a fan

**Author's note: **To Hyades, Meg-Breanne, Mma63, necira, gt4good, apcJodi, CrazyGunFire, jdcocoagirl, Gear's Girl, The Chosen one 16 and xoSnickersxo, thank you for your reviews and for satisfying my review-junkie ways.

My heart goes out to the families and victims of Virginia Tech. The shootings happened a day after my birthday. I keep thinking about it. It makes me sad to know that the world can be so ugly and wrong. My prayers go out to all of you. Be strong.

"Virginia Tech, we remember you."

* * *

**Chapter 16**

There was darkness, and agony, and voices.

_Sara… The doors…_

_No. No, no, no, no…_

_W-Warrick—over h-here_

_What are you waiting for? Help me get her out of here._

If there were dreams in that dark slumber, she could remember little of them afterwards.

_Oh my Gosh._

_Nick…go with her…_

…_. Take care of her._

She had a sense of rolling over in darkness… of tumbling, of free falling through infinite lightless space.

_You'll get through this. Everything's going to be okay. _

_Sara, can you hear me? C'mon, open your eyes. Stay with me. Sara? _

There was no fear in the dream…

----------------

_We'll get the guy who did this. We'll find whoever's responsible, prosecute him…_

Those were the only thoughts going through their minds as they made their way to the hospital. Grissom had placed Catherine and Sofia in charge of Sara's medical examination. His main reasons—The doctors at Desert Palms were not in the business of collecting evidence and according to protocol, it would be best if a person of the same gender did the examination. They were certain those weren't the only reasons but they didn't push the issue further.

They had more important things to think about.

The car bounced as Sofia drove towards Desert Palm. They knew that tonight Sara would be there. After nearly two years, she'll finally be somewhere; in a place where they could see her, hear her and touch her, without the need of dreams or imaginations. As they headed towards the hospital, they were excited, ecstatic beyond comprehension, despite having to work in the middle of the night. But the closer they got to their destination, the women felt afraid, and they continued their journey in silence.

Staring out of the window towards the moon, Catherine sighed a breath of sadness and longing, closing her eyes slowly in a state of mediation. _A few hours ago, someone told her that her friend was dying. Moments passed, and they'd managed to rescue her, only to find out that she wasn't breathing. Finally, at the hospital, they were told that the doctors had stabilized her. A heartless battle of life and death. _Everything depended on one thing: Sara's capacity to survive. Catherine rubbed her forehead just as the car jerked to a stop; for a moment she felt the pressure of the entire team on her back, the vibration of the road still working up through her seat, into her feet and along her body, becoming an ache on her shoulders. As the vibrations stopped, she felt her body settle into the present, her silent thoughts interrupted by the chill that Sofia was allowing into the car.

They have arrived. They have finally arrived.

----------------

_Nick wasn't going to lose her. Not like this. _

That was the prayer he had repeated to himself from the moment he saw her, chained to the wall in the room. Treated like animal—like she wasn't a person. Like she didn't matter to anyone.

_Left behind to die. Left for dead. _

They had moved her to the back of the ward, away from obvious prying eyes. Nick grabbed a chair to sit with her, trying to will his eyes to stay open despite the utter exhaustion that made his arms and legs heavy. He kept his eyes on Sara, who lay unmoving on the same gurney that she was brought in. She was made to lie on her right side; the injuries on her back made it impossible for her to heal if she had lay flat. Nick didn't mind. At least he didn't have to move to see her face. He could still see the tear tracks through the blood and dirt on her cheeks, before disappearing into her hair. Her skin was pale beneath the bruises, which were getting uglier with each passing minute. The doctors had cut away her bloody clothes, and placed them in a paper sack that now sat on the counter marked 'evidence'. The nurses had dressed her in a loose-fitting gown that seemed two sizes too big for her, some of her blood seeping into the fabric.

_They promised to get her clean up after the evidence had been collected. Protocol… _

Her body was still bloodstained and unkempt. She had a nosebleed and solidified blood on her cheeks cracked and flaked as she breathed through her mask. She had needles stuck all over her body, wires connected to the area around her heart. Her wounds were still fresh and he didn't know how long she'd be unconscious. He had no one to ask and that worried him. The hospital staff had left them alone once she had been stabilised, keeping their touch to a minimal in fear of compromising the evidence. Nick didn't blame them…

_He wasn't allowed to touch her either. _

He wasn't allowed to smooth her hair back from her face. He wasn't allowed to wipe away her tears with his thumb. There he sat, within an arms length from her and he wasn't even allowed to hold her hand. All he could do was look at her and say words that he had already said. He found it ridiculous, but then again, those were the rules. He was given the task to watch over her until Catherine and Sofia arrive to examine her.

_And he made sure he did the job well._

He watched her anxiously as he waited, unable to take his eyes from Sara's unconscious form. Angry red marks circled her throat and he could see that the damage was just enough to almost choke her to death. _Almost _being the key word. Rage surged through him as he stared at her injuries. For the first time in his life, premeditative murder seemed almost appealing and pleasant.

_An eye for an eye._

He shook his head, hoping the thought would fall out of his ears and onto the ground. He wasn't going to lose her. He couldn't lose her. Not like this. He wouldn't. He kept telling himself that, as if repeating the words could make it come true. As if by saying it, he could fix it all. Make it all better, like a mother kissing a child's skinned knee. He turned away briefly and looked around. There was a smear of blood on the floor. Her blood. They must have missed a spot.

_That bothered him. _

It bothered him that his last thought, before breaking down entirely, was that he was going to sue the hospital. Sara almost died, and he was going to sue the hospital for not cleaning up after her.

----------------

Their footsteps echoed in the hallway. A blue fluorescent tube flicked lightly above them. The hospital janitor stared at them suspiciously, while mopping the floor. Pink water splashing in the bucket…

Surreal. Queer.

Catherine and Sofia walked into the ward, a kit and camera in their hands, ready to do what needed to be done. The door behind them sighed and wheezed like a dying patient. The light from the outside rushed in and escaped within the same moment, plunging the room back into despair. The room was almost empty. The only indication of life—the sound of the heart monitor and the weeping of a grieving man. They stopped and stood next to a bunch of medical equipment, next to the doors, watching Nick with Sara. He hadn't noticed them. Catherine figured it was a good thing. He could use a little more time.

From where she was, Catherine surveyed the injuries on Sara's thin broken body, picturing how annoyed she'd be once she woke up, and not being able to go to work. She'll probably start bossing Greg around in the lab. Ordering him to do this and that. That would be a thing to see. That would be an excellent thing to see indeed.

Fond illusions crept into her brain. She kept pretending that once Sara opened her eyes, everything would go back to normal.

"Ready, Cath?"

She flinched as Sofia spoke. For a moment she thought Sara had asked her that; that Sara had sat up from her gurney to ask if she was ready to process her. That saddened her greatly. She turned to the voice and nodded, knowing that in reality, she'll never be ready for something like this.

Nick sat at the back of the ward heavily. Hands on his knees, his back hunched over like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. Within the last few hours, he had managed to look twice his age. There were dark circles around his eyes and he had gotten blood all over his shirt. The red smears were fading to brown now. The kind of brown that might come out in the wash, or forever be stained like imperfection. He was running out of shirts that didn't have bloodstains on them, whether it was his or somebody else's.

But this was the first time the blood was Sara's.

"Sara's clothes… There's definitely DNA. We'll know who's responsible. We can find whoever did this..." Nick said, almost rambling. He lifted the bag without looking at the two women, his eyes fixated on the gurney. He knew what was required of him at that moment: his exit. Catherine could see that he didn't want to leave; he wanted to stay in the room with Sara. It was written on every line of his body. She could sympathise, but he had to go. Those were the rules.

"Nick, we're going to need your clothes. You'll have to come with me." Sofia's fingers held his elbows, prompting him to stand. He was too tired to put up a fight. He stood up and sadly sighed in utter defeat, glancing back at them as he followed the detective through the doors.

Catherine was now alone with Sara. They'd gone. They were not too happy about it, but they'd gone.

She took out her camera and took several pictures of Sara's emaciated body. The bruises and lacerations, even the egg-sized lump on the left side of her face. Every click of the camera was like bullet entering the chamber of a gun; a gun that was pointed straight to her heart. The more she took, the more ashamed she felt; guilty for taking pictures without her friend's consent, profane for violating her friend's privacy. She had to move her bloody gown in order to report her findings—Full length and close-ups. It felt wrong. Everything inside her felt tight, like a toy whose spring had been wound too far, too much. She was about to break, or fall to pieces; and she wasn't even sure which would come first.

She looked into the camera and for a moment, Sara's body blurred, reduced to nothing but colours and shapes. She sighed, annoyed by the setback, fanning her face to get rid her tears, apologising to Sara for being so sensitive at a time like this. The fanning didnt work. A tear rolled down her cheek, and another and another. More tears flowed and she had to placed her camera down, drawing in deep and shuddering breaths. She continued apologising, dispeling the silence and the lone sound of Sara's laboured breathing.

In her blurred peripheral vision, she thought she saw a shadow peering through the door's tiny window; a vague impression of a tall, dark-haired person. Catherine blinked, her world coming back into focus.

The shadow was gone, leaving Catherine to wonder if it was her imagination.

She wiped her cheeks with the heel of her hand, and kept going.

She catalogued everything. Every cut. Every bruise. Every bleed. The list grew longer and longer, enough for two victims to share. That made her sick. Her stomach rolled, threatening to defile the hospital floor at the sight of each abuse. The bruises on Sara's wrist were already purple. Her shoulders, back and thighs had colour that shouldn't be on a healthy human being. Her skin had been broken and torn so many times, that even though she was great at math, Catherine couldn't get the exact number. She continued anyways, carefully swabbing her mouth, wiping the blood from where Sara had bitten her lip, the inside of cheek, her tongue. She then combed the debris out of her hair, sneaking the opportunity to brush her hair back from her forehead tenderly. Like Sara was someone worth cherishing.

She was definitely someone worth cherishing.

She taken all the samples she needed and stored them. That was what she did… during cases like these. She had seen it all before, it was her job to see things like these. She knew what to do.

_She always knew what to do. _

Through it all, Sara's eyes had remained closed, her chest rising and falling steadily. Her breathing was shallow and rasping. A sign that she was still with them; she hasn't given up.

"You did good, Sara." Catherine said as she reached out and ran the tips of her fingers down Sara's cheek. She walked to the doors and gestured for the doctors and nurses, the signal that she was done and they were in no risk jeopardizing the prosecutions, their reputation or careers. Without talking to her or acknowledging her, they proceed to clean her up and redress her wounds. To make her more presentable for the entire world that was red, raw and bleeding.

_To mend a broken toy that may or may not be beyond repair._

* * *

In the midst of flushing urinals and gushing water, he stood in front of the mirror, tall and proud. He watched as his reflective image mimic his every move, combing his hair like it meant something. The light in the men's room shone on his pale skin; the outer layer of his demented existence, covering the only thought in his head:

_Sara Sidle made it through the night._

_Yes…She made it. She's alive. Her friends had save her._

The same friends he talked to days before. While they cried outwardly, he smiled inwardly; listening with glee about how they felt about her, how they missed her, their progress in her abduction, the things they wanted to do to the one responsible, not knowing it's him.

_Who were her friends again_? Hang on… he wrote it down in his worn-out note pad.

_NSGGGS__SS__SCCWWBJB_

_Nick Stokes, Gil Grissom, Greg Sanders, __Sara Sidle__, Sofia Curtis, Catherine Willows, Warrick Brown, Jim Brass._

He wondered what would Sara think of them? Talking to her tormentor about her? Giving him something to use against her…

_Well… in their defence, they did not know who he was. They did not know that he watched them rescue her through his computer screen. They did not know that he drove to Desert Palm in his black car and watched as the doctors patched her up, the rush of adrenaline surging within him as they tried to repair his handiwork…_

He exited the men's room and entered the hallway, passing by Nick and Sofia as they walked out of the medical ward. He watched them, wondering where they were going before peering into the door's tiny window. Catherine was taking photos of Sara, talking to her. He smiled, thinking of what sorts of dreams he'll have about all of these.

_Time to go…_

He'll lay low for a while; no one will notice he's missing, they'll be too concern about one of their own to worry about him. He'll show up again when she wakes up. It's only a matter of time. In a couple of days, she'll be his again.

_Because this one's a keeper. And he plans to keep it that way._

**TBC

* * *

**

I thought the killer should make another appearance. Actually, I have left clues of his identity in the previous chapters. Sadly, no one noticed.

Remember the string of letters in Chapter 2? Now you know what it means.

Does the last line sound familiar? It was taken from Chapter 11.

There's a good chance that Sara will wake up in the next chapter.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please review. It would really make my day.


	17. Doing Nothing means Something

**Title**: In Hell with Love

**Rating**: T

**Disclaimer**: I do not own CSI or its characters. I'm just a fan

**Author's note: **I finally managed to write chapter 17. Sorry for the delay. Life got (terribly) in the way. I needed an escape so I sat down and type this chapter out. Hope you'll like it and review it.

To Meg-Breanne, ilovekc, necira, Gear's Girl, xoSnickersxo, wraiths-angel, inhellwithloveluver (I never had someone named themselves after my story, I feel honoured), refinnej and simple lines, thank you for your reviews. I apologise for making you wait.

To the others, where are my reviews? –Grins– just kidding

* * *

**Chapter 17**

_----------_

_Did I do something wrong? Did I fail her in someway?_

_Why was this done to her? Who would do such a thing? That bastard played with her like she was a doll with no feelings. Like she could be discarded like yesterday's trash. Like she wasn't real…_

_Did I fail her as a cop? Did I fail her as a colleague? As a friend? As a father figure?_

_I saw her. Her eyes would not open. Her breathing came rasping and shallow. Why didn't I help her? I just stood there… I didn't do anything._

_There was a blood on the floor, on the walls. There was blood on Nick's hands, Warrick's hands; the paramedics too. Why didn't I have blood on mine? Why were my hands so white and clean?_

_Why? Why didn't I do more? Why didn't I do anything?_

----------

Brass sat by his desk, flipping through notes that seemed almost cryptic to his eyes. He looked through evidence over evidence, clues over clues, trying to do something, anything… Even if they didn't make any sense he kept his eyes on them, despite his utter weariness that made his body laden.

He was keeping vigil, thinking that if he slept he would be betraying Sara in someway.

He had bought himself some rice and soda earlier, making a sarcastic comment to a lab tech that he was on a diet. That's the way he is. He had to make a remark now and then in order to feel normal. A coping mechanism. He ate slowly, trying to settle his stomach. He didn't remember tasting the food, and the soda sat untouched on his desk. Nobody came by. He was alone in the lab, with the soft glow of light and the tasteless food for company.

If normalcy remained, Sara would walk by those doors and eat with him. She would tell him about her latest case, how she felt, what she would do to the bad guys. She would reassure him that she wasn't drinking anymore and offer him her last mint just to convince him. She would flash him her signature gap-tooth smile before thanking him for doing nothing.

_Would Sara still thank him for doing absolutely nothing?_

He didn't do anything when he was in that room. Nick warmed and supported her, Warrick got the restraints off and the paramedics help her, while he could only stare. Stare and hear the voices that screamed in his head. Back at that room, it was so crowded. So crowded that he was forgotten. He felt invisible, standing behind them, watching them save her while he did absolutely nothing.

"Busy?" He heard someone said. Brass hadn't noticed Sofia as she came through the doors.

"Not so much."

_The understatement of the year_, a little voice inside Brass's head mocked him.

"We've got a lead on the case. Some writings on the walls indicated that Sara knew the killer." Sofia said, just hearing the word "killer" made Brass's blood run cold. "Have you gone to see Sara yet?"

"Not yet. I'll see her when I'm done with these." Brass replied, and Sofia's eyes drifted pass him to the useless heap of papers.

"When she wakes up, she'll need you."

"Another detective has been stationed outside her room." He replied, darkening a line on a piece of paper, pretending he was writing something of importance. "He's in charge of taking her statement—"

"When she wakes up," Sofia gently interrupted, "she'll need you. Not because you're a detective."

There was a kindness in her eyes when they met his, and Brass swallowed his intended reply. He sighed, rubbing the creases in his palms against the wrinkles on his face.

"Well…at least its better than doing nothing…" he said as he grabbed his coat and headed towards the doors.

* * *

_Hey Sara,_

_I know you're sleeping and the doctors said that you probably wouldn't be able to hear me right now… I mean… considering that they doped you for the pain and all. But just in case—just in case you can hear me, I want you to know that you're not alone. You'll never be alone. Not while I'm here. _

_There are people here who love and care for you. So no matter what happens… we'll handle it together. _

_Remember, you'll never be alone._

----------

The chair moaned as Nick opened his eyes, his vision focusing upon a solitary person. Light softly pearled through the door, making the white walls appear sky blue. The blinds on the windows were slightly drawn and Nick could see the dust motes dancing to welcome the morning. But even with the golden threadlike rays peeking onto the hospital floor, the room looked as dark as ever.

_Dozed off again, _he thought, cleaning the dirt out of his eyes.

It has been 3 days since they found Sara. And for 3 days, she did not wake. The doctors had placed her in an induced coma to help her breathing and recovery. But even with all their qualifications and know-it-all minds, they could not tell as to when she will regain consciousness.

_He was beginning to dislike doctors…_

For 3 days, he had sat on the same moaning chair for hours on end. He had fallen asleep and woke up several times in it; each time, noticing the warmth of Sara's body growing, the faces of nurses changing and the repeated replacement of medication. From time to time, a machine would buzz and he would hear hurried footsteps along the corridor and into the room. That scared him. But now, the worst was over. She's breathing on her own and the fever and breathing had stabilised.

Nick noticed a vase on the table that wasn't there before— Pink and white flowers. Grissom must have dropped by while they were asleep. His boss had given him the week off, as a reward for solving the case and a recuperation period. Grissom was relieved when they rescued Sara, but plunged dangerously into work as the days went by, afraid of missing out on a piece evidence if he ever slowed down. Almost like Sara on a normal day… Nick didn't blame him. Grissom's last words to Sara were words of rejection. Words that he didn't mean, words that he wanted to take back if he could…

Its normal, everyone wished they could take back or done something different that day. Sara was like a sister to them—a compassionate, empathic, genius sister. They would do anything to spare her pain, to keep her from harm. Nick knew how the others felt.

While Greg had been complaining about being stood up and the diner, his date had been snatched off in an alleyway by a brutal, sadistic man.

While Grissom had been on sabbatical for weeks, teaching and enriching minds, his love one had been imprisoned and viciously tortured.

While Catherine and Sofia were on a case, thinking trivial thoughts about complex things, their sister had been left alone in a room to die.

As a message? To prove a point? To cow them? Hurt them? Why? Why? Why did he do this?

_Wake up Sara… Wake up and say that you'll forgive us._

She laid on her side, the same side as before. Her back was still too raw and hurt to apply any pressure. Tubes travelled from machines to her heart and nose, checking rhythm and providing air . Her right wrist was fastened to the side of the bed with a tourniquet to make sure the IV tubing stayed in place. Her other arm was bandaged from wrist to elbow. The nurses had cleaned her up well, but nothing could be done to hide the multiple bruises and cuts. Lacerations seemed deeper, bruises seemed darker…He hadn't thought she could look any worse than she had when they found her.

He wondered what nightmares she would have. Watching her struggle with these phantoms had made him feel horribly alone. He wanted her to wake up. He was waiting for her to wake up. Waiting for her, so that he could ask her the questions he needed to ask. The things he couldn't tell, by the reports or the listing of her injuries. The things he wished he didn't know.

He wanted to see if her soul had been broken, just like her body.

"It's not your fault, you know." Catherine said quietly, hesitating on her way to the room. Nick knew she was there. He had heard her soft treading, smelled her perfume against the smell of sterile equipments.

"Hell it is!" Nick said softly, so that his voice would not penetrate Sara's drug-induce slumber. Guilt and shame nipped away his sanity as soon as he ended his sentence. He didn't mean to be rude to Catherine. He knew she was hurting just as much as he was. Maybe even more. "I asked her to walk into that alley. I watched as he carried her away. I… every time I close my eyes, all I could see was Sara being taken away."

Catherine's lips parted in surprise at his admission.

"I saw him… I saw him with my own eyes, and yet… I still do not know who he was. I still don't…" Nick said simply. "If what happened wasn't my fault. Then why do I feel like I'm to blame?"

"Because you're a good person. A good person, who almost lost his friend to an evil bastard. He did this, not you."

Nick sighed, his lungs expelling doubt. He repositioned himself on the chair, staring at the hospital floor instead of Catherine's eyes. Her acceptance was worse than if she had blamed him. The way she looked at him, wanting to comfort him, made things a thousand times worse.

"Was she…?" Nick didn't have to finish his sentence. Catherine knew what he was going to ask. She nodded. "There were signs indicating that she had been…sexually assaulted."

A CSI knows what that word actually means. They often used the term in front of parents, who would not believe that such harm could come to a person they care about; as if that somehow made it less…. horrific. Less a brutal act of cowardice and hatred than it was.

Nick's hands were balled into fists, nails cutting crescent-shaped impressions into his palms. He wanted to lash out—and Catherine was the closest available target. "She trusted me, Cath. Trusted me to keep her safe, and I put her in harms way."

"You couldn't have known what was going to happen…"

"Why did it have to be Sara? He said, his voice cracked with strain. "Why couldn't it have been… god, I wish I'd…"

"Don't say it. Don't say it. It's not going to be you, or Sara, or anyone. Not ever again. Not any of us." Catherine placed her hand onto his shoulder as he drew in deep and shuddering breaths. Her brave front had crumbled, her own eyes burning as her tears scalded her cheeks.

"I'm sorry." Nick said, recomposing himself.

"Why? For being human? For being Sara's friend? For hurting?" She let her hand rest on his shoulder for a moment longer. "You have nothing to apologise about."

Nick said nothing, as he fiddled with Sara's tourniquet. He then placed her hand between his, playing with her fingers, watching them straighten and curl back into a relaxed position. Catherine watched those hands. The hands that solved so many cases and yet, will not be able to solve this one. She stared, crestfallen as her shadow gave the illusion of Sara's legs moving.

_Only… that wasn't an illusion…_

Before she could alert Nick, he had experience a miracle on his own. Sara's fingers did not respond the way they did a moment ago. Instead, her hand had held onto his, almost not letting go. He shot an eager look at Catherine before leaning closer to Sara, staring intently at her face, calling out her name, soft and gentle.

_Sara?_

Her eyelids twitched, the smallest frowns creasing her brow as she slowly opened her eyes…

**TBC**

* * *

I'll apologise once again for the delay. Hope you have enjoyed this chapter. Sorry for any mistakes in grammar, spelling etc (let me know if there is). Its now 3am in the morning and I'm extremely tired. 

**To everyone:** Did you catch the Finale? It was awesome -smile- I'll update the next chapter as soon as I can, till then leave a review.


	18. A Rude Awakening

**Title**: In Hell with Love

**Rating**: T

**Disclaimer**: I do not own CSI or its characters. I'm just a fan

**Author's note: **Thank you _**necira**_ (hope I didnt make you wait too long), _**Mma63**_ (I dont think he's only feeling guilty -big grin- thank you for your encouragements), _**Ilovejohnmayer**_ (Sara's my fave too -smiles- I like greg too)_**, apcJodi**_ (I'm glad this story is one of your faves -hugs-), _**xoSnickersxo **_(Haha, your review made me smile),_** Meg-Breanne**_ (hee, I typed this story as fast as I could for you), **_samantha_** (your review made my day and kept me going -hugs-), **_jdcocoagirl_** (hugs), _**SaraLou**_ (hugs), _**maricejayo **_(hugs)_**, kjeh**_ (hugs), _**bene**_ (hugs), _**ladylovercsi08**_ (i'm not sure how many chapters till the end, i havent really planned yet), _**refinnej**_ (hugs) and** _leana9101_**(thanks for adding this story as your faves) for your reviews.

I never had this many reviews before. I left each of you a note or a hug for that. -smiles- Hope you'll keep reading and reviewing this story.

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 18**

_Sara? Sara, can you hear me?_

There are voices…voices in my head.

_C'mon. Open your eyes for me. _

I'm hearing things… tender words that can't be real…can't be for me…

_You're safe now._

The ground…it's too soft…to be the ground. The room… too bright to be mine.

_Sara? Sara?_

Someone's calling me? Is it him? Is he coming to get me?

_No one's gonna… hurt you…_

Hurt me?

…_as long as I am here._

Oh my Gosh… where am I?

_------------------------------_

_Beep… beep… beep… beep…_

"That's it, Sara. You can do it…" Nick leaned in, his open eyes on the same level as her closed ones. He smiled. He wanted his face to be the first thing she sees. He wanted her to see the hope in his eyes, to hear the faith in his voice, to feel the care in his heart…_ He owed it to her_… He smoothed her silken hair back from her pale face, trying to soothe her in the only way he knew how. Her thin hand was still holding on to his fingers; his almost too big, hers almost too small. Her breathing was heavy, her paper gown laid feather soft against her skin. The air around her smelled like lemons. Her eyes peeled opened, and yet partly closed as to prevent the minute amount of light from blinding her.

"Cath, get the light switch. Turn off the lights." Nick looked up at Catherine for a second, before turning back to Sara. Catherine saw a spark in his eyes that she hadn't seen in a long time.

_Joy._

His thumb brushed against her sunken cheekbone, careful not to touch any bruises—bruises darkening from temple to jaw. She twitched slightly; the faint weak reflex of her atrophied muscles. Her body had an alertness, a tension that he sense in the way her eyes moved. She frowned in utter confusion as she turned her head and opened her mouth, her startled red eyes searching the room as if to see where all the air gone.

_Beep, beep, beep, beep._

Her heart monitor went berserk. A fear woke within her that she could not comprehend. Her thoughts were incoherent, chaotic. She could not focus on any one train of thought and follow it through a logical conclusion. A voice in her head was telling her to run, another was telling her to fight. Her legs would not move. Her hands would not act. Her heart was beating so fast. Too fast, that she thought she was having a heart attack.

_Fear…Fear…Fear_

Terror sucked the breath from her lungs. She opened her eyes wide and strained them into the blackness. She could not see. Shapes blended into one blurred image as if she was viewing the world through a cotton gauze. Black, blue and white mashed together like colours on a painter's palette. Slowly, sounds began to form. Beeping from machines. Voices. Breathing. It scared her. She was in a dark room—her dark room? She wasn't alone. Someone prowled the shadows beyond her vision… someone… right in front of her!

_Nails slashed skin. Fingers, so close to mauling eyes out of its sockets._

Nick hadn't seen that one coming. He felt a sharp blow on his face and stumbled back. He reflectively placed his hand on his cheek; fingers touching his face to check if his eyes were still there. The skin on his face became warm and inflamed beneath his fingers. His flesh broken by a power so forced that it could only be controlled by fear and adrenaline. It didn't hurt though, not at much as the hurt that crushed his hopeful expectation of the situation.

_He could not believe it that, in her panic, Sara had defended herself… against him…_

She sat bolt upright. A pain shot up her body and a series of bright dots appeared. Even with all her confusion, she knew that those dots were not stars from heaven, but the consequences of the intense earth pain she was feeling—unmistakable, matchless pain. The pain took a stab at her chest, and punched her throat. Sara felt her head spinning. She entered a kind of euphoric state, as the endorphins in her brain try to compensate physical distress she's experiencing.

"_Nick! Are you alright?"_

"_Sara! Stop! It's okay!"_

The cries and exclamation of others seemed distant, as if coming from another world. She glanced around quickly, trying to understand why her universe had altered in some inexplicable way. Her breathing became laboured, and she was afraid she would suffocate in a room full of air. She was going to die as if she was being buried alive or plunged into the depths of the sea, with no one around to save her. Turning her head, she found out that her arm was strapped down at the side of the bed, tubes inserted without her permission, unknown chemicals pumped into her veins. She gasped, pulling her arm in order to get free from her restraints. Her body felt violated and degraded. Disrespected. She continued making heroic efforts to breathe, but the air would not go it. What's worse, death would not come. She was fully aware of what's happening to her and yet, she did not lose consciousness.

"_Sara? Sara. Calm down…It's okay." _

Catherine said, her hands outstretched to show Sara that she wasn't a threat. It was odd; Her arms were shaking and her voice quivered, like she had lost her ability to remain calm and composed. She watched helplessly as Sara struggled to free herself from the tourniquet around her wrist, the bed moving inches to the side until the strap finally came loose.

"Sara…Honey. Listen to me…" Catherine said, loud and firm, but gentle. "It's Cath. Remember?— I need you to calm down…" Sara held her arm protective to her chest, relieved that her hand was back in her possession. Her pain and confusion was writ across her expressive face as Catherine spoke, as if she wasn't expecting to hear a female's voice apart from her own. Sara's eyes were filled with tears, and she was trying her best not to cry… not to make a sound, like she was afraid to, like she was programmed to…

_He did it. He broke her... _

Sara glanced suspiciously at Catherine and then at Nick, who had managed to recover with a deep scratch just beneath his right eye, ending at the bridge of his nose. The way she looked at him made him feel lower than dirt, maybe even worse.

"Its okay. No one's going to hurt you. Its alright." He said, wanting to believe. Needing to believe...

"…_Okay… no one… hurt you… alright…"_

_What?_ There was buzzing in her ears. Her hands were clenched so tight that they were digging into her palm, almost drawing blood. Nick watched helplessly as Sara struggle with her pain. He was inches away from the bed that held his panic-stricken friend but the closer he got, the more panicked she became. The whites of her eyes were scarlet red, peeking between her silken, untrimmed hair that flowed wildly about her face. Her bout of hysteria had taken its toll on her skeletal, starved frame and Nick could see her tiredness in her limbs. He reached out for her hand, but she violent recoiled from touch, shifting away.

_He's going to hurt you. He's going to get you…._

By now, her paper gown was drenched in sweat. Sara ripped her medical tube out of her arms, causing her to flinch in pain. She struggled out of her bed and onto her feet, holding the flaccid piece of medical equipment like how a person would hold a knife. She pointed it straight at Nick, her hands shaking to an uncontrollable extent. She was afraid of him, and knowing that sadden him greatly. It made his heart ached. _He had to get closer. He could make her understand if he got closer._ He took a step towards Sara.

"Don't…" She blurted as she moved away from him. She continued to back up until her injured back was pressed against the wall. "Stay away from me…"

Nick slowly moved towards her, hoping she would believe him, but fearing that she would not. As he approached, she moved, keeping the distanced between them constant. "Stay away…" she repeated, her voice cracking with fear and panic that surged through her. He stopped moving, sensing that his pursuit was adding to her rising panic.

_What now, genius? _His brain mocked him. He was in the verge of tears and he felt ashamed, helpless, lost… He was going to lose her and he didn't know what to do.

"Sara, I…"

Before Nick could say another word, several medical personnel appeared at her door. Strangers with faces etched with worry and interest. Once the word got out that the tortured patient was awake and was at risk of hurting herself and others, every concern and curious hospital staff wanted to get involved. That made things worse. Nick yelled at them to get away but it was too late. Sara had already seen them. To her, their greyish form were moving like worms in a sack, their heads shifting from side to side to get a better look.

_Monsters in Human Skins_

"No!" Sara yelled. Her eyes were sending hundreds of random images in to her brain, combining the feeling of suffocation with the sense of complete visual confusion. She had to get away from this nightmare. She immediately retreated to the corner of the room away from the door, pulling the medical tube too far. The IV stand fell over with a deafening crash. Voices at the door lost their calm, technical tone and become tense, issuing rapid orders. Her own heartbeat terrified her, the machine beeping throwing her merciless into complete disorientation…

_Somebody help me!_

She felt a pair of strong arms wrapped around her fleshless body, engulfing her in a tight embrace. She heard him murmured something as he held her in a bear hug. She felt trapped. She did not know who he was. _It's him! It must be!_ _He's back. He's got her. She knew what was coming next. No! Not again. Get off! Get away! _She struggled to get away, struggling like she did for months when she was fighting for her life back in her prison.

_Somebody…Please! Somebody help me! _

Sara grabbed the back of his shirt and tried to pull him off her but he wouldn't budge. She used her bandaged hand to push him away but she was too weak. She desperately clawed and pounded against the rock-hard creature as she felt her last ounce of energy leaving her body…

She felt eyes looking at her as she struggled, each of them watching as she fought for dear life. From the corner of her eye, one of the monsters came running in with a needle.

_No! I don't want that! Pancho, Pancho, Pancho…_ _Please come…save me…_

She shut her eyes tight, but the injection never came. She heard an angry, muffled growl and the needle-wielding fiend stood her ground. Unable to control herself any longer, Sara started crying uncontrollably. The inevitable has come, and she was going to die. All those months of pain and loneliness she endured, clinging on to hope that her friends would find her, her fight for survival through hell… they were all for nothing. He was going to kill her… and she didn't get a chance to say good-bye…

"_It's over now… You're all right… If you know its me… hug me back."_

_What? What did he say?_ Sara's head swam, enveloped by the familiar scent as her shoulder shook beneath his hands. Her repetitive poundings and clawing slowed to mere hits and scrapes as he spoke. As he whispered lies—reassurances, nonsense—into her hair.

"_Hug… me… back… if you know it's me…"_

She knew that voice. Her body relaxed as she remembered that hug. _The hug that kept her warm, the hug that supported her when she fell, she remembered_. She felt his chin resting on the top of her head as she cried herself out. For that one moment, she knew that everything would be just fine…For once, something turned out right. The hope she had held on for so long… it came.

_It finally came…_

* * *

"_Sara…if you're in danger, afraid or anything at all… shout "Pancho" three times and wherever I am… I'll come running to save you._

"_Pancho, Pancho, Pancho… and you'll come running?"_

"_And I'll come running to save you…I promise..." _

* * *

The nurse moved in to give Sara an injection in her arm…. 

_It's not all a lie. Not all of it… _

She felt the needle pierce her skin. Her body shook in response. But the hug remained…

_He promises, and he always keeps his promise…_

She felt her tears burning her eyes as the last drop of sedative flowed into a vein in her bruised arm. She was afraid to fall asleep, but somehow it felt right…

_Remember that. Remember… It's not all lies._

Using whatever will and strength she had left, Sara did something she had not done to another in a long time…

_She hugged him… _

_--_

_She hugged Nick Stokes back… _

**TBC**

* * *

This was a very disorientating chapter for me to write. But I wanted to give all of you a sense of how Sara feels. Hopefully it wasnt too confusing (it was for me at first. Haha)

I dont know if its just me or I'm not writing as well as before -sobs-. Hope you enjoyed this chapter.


	19. 3 smiles, 2 frowns and 1 word

**Title**: In Hell with Love

**Rating**: T

**Disclaimer**: I do not own CSI or its characters. I'm just a fan

**Author's note: **I'm sorry for the long delay. I've been really busy, juggling between 2 jobs and school. Hopefully I didnt lose any fans in the process.

**A big "thank you" goes to: bene** (thank you for your review. I really appreciated your feedback) **SaraLou** (Haha. the chapter was confusing for me to write. But Im glad your happy with it), **necira** (thanks for your wonderful review. I'm writing the next chapter of Fall to Earth and will post it soon. Sorry for taking so long), **apcJodi** (A novel, you say? a big hug goes to you), **Meg-Breanne** (I glad to get such a powerful response from you.), **jdcocoagirl** (hugs for your review), **Mma63** (I always look forward to your review. Sorry for the long update. I'll try to update sooner. Btw, I cant stand those fluffy fics either.), **maricejayo** (hugs for your review.), **leana9101** (hugs for your reviews), **Crazedzombiemonkey** (thank you for your review. Im glad you loved it), **loisje** (Haha. thank you for your review. Im hoping to use the pancho thing again -smile-), **xoSnickersxo** (Thanks for your review. Your nickname always inspires me when it comes to "snickers" moments), **c'estmoi** (thanks for your review. I wont say mine is the best, but hearing that from someone else makes my day), **babes** (I glad you liked the hug. Thanks for your review.)

_Its now 3am in the morning. I'm tired and disorientated. But writing for you all makes it worth it. Thank you for your patience._

* * *

**Chapter 19**

_She always wondered when she'd end up here. If there was such a thing as a family curse, this would be it. She kept telling herself it was inevitable, unavoidable. Her mother had been through this. It was only right that she would end up this way— in hospital, beaten up, abused, with everything to fear…_

_Like mother like daughter. _

_With the bruises as her makeup, the IV and electrodes; her accessories and the hospital gown; her dress, her loving husband was hers again. Empty promises of a better life, fake kisses and stupid apologies were enough to redeem the monster of his sins. Her mother was gullible, weak. She would believe anything, anyone who promises to save her from this damned life. She believed that he was the cure, not the cause. She should have hated her mother for that. But why didn't she? _

_Was it because that was the only time he was her father? The kind of father she saw on TV during the commercials, the man in movies with the pearly white smile, with lovely soft hair that she could run her hand through. The protector of the meek and the saviour of the weak. He actually hugged her mother without choking her, brushed her hair lightly without slapping. He wasn't angry, he was sober, his touch was gentle and he was her father. He was perfect. He told her that her mother fell down the stairs and she told herself that he must have forgotten: he was the one who pushed her down in the first place. He reassured them that it would not happen again for the umpteenth time and each time she forgave him. She didn't know why… it was like she had no other choice. After all, he was her father._

_He brought her out of her mother's hospital room to buy ice cream and sat with her as she ate. Wiping each creamy smear that appeared at the side of her mouth with a handkerchief out of his own pocket. The fresh white material stained with smirches, threatening to remain there for the rest of its life. It made her feel really bad, guilty. It was his favourite handkerchief… but he assured her it was okay. Everything will be okay…_

_That day was heavenly. He was her father again. He smiled at her and that made her feel special. She was his little princess, his little angel. He vowed to treat her like that from this moment on. She had heard that one before…but what if he meant it this time? All he wanted in return was a promise not to tell what really happened and she promised not to tell a single soul. Why? Because he was her father, and for that moment—that tiny moment—he loved her; ice cream justifies that…_

_She wouldn't have taken the bribe if she knew. She wouldn't have promised if that was the outcome. For that day, she had sold her mother's safety for ice cream and she had killed her father with her promise of silence… _

_She deserved what she got—being kidnapped, tortured and left for dead—she deserved all of it. She deserved to suffer, just like her mother did…_

_Like mother like daughter..._

* * *

"What the hell happened?" Brass asked, closing the door behind him. He arrived to the hospital to find several medical personnel outside Sara's door, pointing and murmuring about the commotion like visitors at a freak show. He was enraged. Furious. He would not stand here and let Sara be disrespected this way. Within seconds, he drove them away with his voice and hand gestures alone, threatening to put their medical skills to the test when he's done hurting them.

After making sure that Sara was safely back in her bed, they went over to the next room to see if Nick needed stitches on his face. Fortunately, he didn't. The cut wasn't deep enough…

_But everyone knew that it wasn't the cut that hurt._

Placing the band-aid on his nose, Catherine pushed her chair back to admire her work, cocking her head to the side like a sculptor looking at her statue. The wheels beneath the chair rolled uncomfortably across the tiled floor before coming to a halt, its sound disappearing into the walls of the empty room.

"Sara woke up." Came a reply. But any pleasure she had in delivering the "would-be" good news had vanished. "She's in pretty bad shape Jim…"

"Damn…" he sighed, expelling air out through his nose. He pressed his lips together thoughtful, wondering what was the right thing to say at a time like this. He looked around, trying to find something to stare at as he processed his thoughts. The chair, the door, the table, the floor… Nick. He looked as demoralised as a kid who lost a fight to a bully, "You alright Nick?"

A nod.

Brass gently pointed towards his own face. "Did Sara do that?"

Another nod.

He placed his hands into his pocket, the tip of his fingers playing with a mint that he had saved for Sara's awakening. It was her favourite, the kind that she ate when she's on a case. The one she relied on when she tried to hide her drinking. The one that she presented to him once she had stopped drinking. In his excitement, he had bought it for this special moment, imagining the look on Sara's face once he gave it to her. But it looks like it'll have to wait. Brass clenched his fist around the mint for a moment before releasing it back into his pocket. Somehow, that action alone was enough to bring him some sort of assurance.

"She's a fighter, you know. Always has been."

_A smile. In fact, there were three._

* * *

_A frown. In fact, there were two._

The door creaked quietly as the two men walked in.

Dust motes swirled lazily around their shoes with each step, glittering in the sunlight that had forced its way into the gloomy room. Curtains that were once white had turned to a shade of yellowish grey, swaying with the breeze that came through an open window, uninvited. Sara must have forgotten to close her windows again…

They haven't been here in a while. Sara's apartment…

Nostalgia crept up behind Grissom and Greg as they stood in the middle of her living room. The landlord had refused to rent out Sara's apartment and would not even open the door for the two CSIs until they proved to him that they were her friends. Sara was always nice to the man. She never made fun of his age, or commended on his bald spot. There were times where she bought him gifts, sometimes a cup of tea or a piece of cake. There were other times where she would just sit by him, listening to old war stories that nobody cared about. She had a way of making the old lonely soul feel special and everyday, he looked forward to her return. But, since Sara went missing, he kept himself locked in his apartment, and all that joy that Sara had worked so hard to manifest in him had disappeared…

"I don't understand why we have to be here." Greg complained, dragging his feet across the dusty floor in a desperate attempt to get rid of the gloomy silence. "Brass said that Sara's coming around. What are we doing here? We should be by her side…"

Grissom didn't even look at the young CSI. Something else had caught his eye, a couch: the same couch he sat on when Sara told him her family secret. He stared, unmoving, as he imagined that day: her knees closed to her chest as she cried, pouring out her soul to him. In response, he held her hand. It seemed like the right thing to do at the time, but he wished that he had done something more.

…_Should have done something more._

"When Sara wakes up, there's no telling what she remembers and what she does not." He tore his eyes away from the couch, turning to Greg. "We have to look for something that would remind her of what her life used to be… what she used to have."

_Used to…_ Grissom thought, thinking back to those moments that felt like a lifetime ago.

"She won't remember?" Greg asked, his eyebrows arched in a worried state.

"The mind has its filters…." He stopped abruptly. A sense of déjà vu washed over him in a wave of goose bumps. He said the same thing to Sara when she could not remember the name of the woman who took her to foster care… Grissom walked towards Sara's bedroom, not wanting to be in the same room as the familiar couch. Greg followed close behind.

Her room was just as she left it. Untouched like a time capsule. Sara had left her forensic books out and open, to pages relating to a case that she had been working on before she went missing. They had solved that particular case on her behalf, and they hope she wouldn't mind. A clock next to them ticked steadily, rhythmic as a human heart, time moving on without her.

Greg sat heavily at the edge of Sara's bed, and picked up a paper crane that had lost its support against a lamp. A big piece of dust hung from its beak and he eyed at its descend as it floated gently to the ground.

His stomach twisted, threaten. He clamp down hard on it, the back of his throat burning as he stared at the paper bird. He shifted his attention to her answering machine, a small red bulb flashing in a hypnotic sequence, as if begging to be heard. He hit playback, his finger coated with dust as he glided it off the machine.

"_Hi. This is Sara Sidle. I'm unable to answer your call right now, but I promise to get back to you as soon as I can. Leave me a message after the beep…(Beep)." _

It was great to hear her voice again, even if it wasn't her…. physically. He knew what was on it; he almost had it memorised. He had called her many times while waiting for her at the diner, leaving messages of impatience and disappointment. He thanked God she didn't hear any of them, Sara would have felt so bad, if she heard it… and probably want to make it up to him somehow.

He didn't look up from the spot he was staring at. All he could see, whether his eyes were opened or closed, was Sara.

"I was so mad at her when she didn't show up…"

Grissom looked up from the closet he was inspecting and turned towards Greg.

"…At the diner… I asked her to meet me there… Not this. She didn't ask for this." he continued, not making any sense, as Grissom walked towards him, listening to the machine ramble the rest of the message before plunging the room back into silence. He knew Greg blamed himself; heck, they all did. But he had this tendency of putting himself down. Like having less experience than the other CSIs had made him inferior somehow, and Grissom wondered if Sara ever talked to him about that yet… like she wanted.

"You're not helping her if you keep thinking this way… Did this happen because of her? It was her decision to meet you. Did this happen because of her choice?"

Greg looked at Grissom, not expecting such a stoic response from him. "What—Is that all you can say? She didn't choose to be kidnapped and tort—"

"No." he replied, cutting him off. "No one does. What happened to Sara was horrific, there's no denying that. But it happened. These things happen…there's nothing we can do about it…"

"How can you be so cold…?"

"Because… It's Sara. And right now she has nothing…" He was frowning; his dark eyes shining with his own unshed tears. "All this time, she knew what she had to do. She had to survive. She had to fight the urge of falling into an eternal sleep, to conquer loneliness, to tolerate torture… She had an aim—an objective to fulfil. And that is to see us again. Our dear Sara… she did it. She had managed to survive. She had focus all that energy that. But now that she had done what she was suppose to do, what is left for her? In those years in her prison, she had something to hold on to. Now… in her mind…she has nothing left…"

Greg looked at his boss, feeling slightly disconnected, unnerved yet somehow disturbed by his words.

"We have to give her something back. We owe that to her. If we don't, we're just as bad as the person who tortured her. I will not have that on our consciences."

More riddles. Grissom always finds a way to stump everyone. Saying cryptic things, pretending nothing in this world bothers him. He was the only one who did not shed a tear upon Sara's disappearance…

_Why?_

"That's why we're here. We have to give her something…so that she'll tell us who did this. As Sara's friend, I should be at the hospital. But right now, as your CSI supervisor, I'm going to stay here. I suggest you do the same. If you can't handle it, I don't want you here."

_All this while, he was only interested in the case…_

He stared, mouth agape and frowning at his words. "Fine." Greg said angrily. He took the paper crane and stuffed it into the pocket of his shirt. He grabbed a few picture frames that had Sara and the CSI team and shoved them hurriedly into his kit. "I'm all set. If you need me, I'll be at the hospital."

_Do you not care? _

"Sara was right about you. You don't feel anything." He said, trying to shake him. To rattle what left of Grissom's composure.

…_Shouldn't have said that. I shouldn't have said those things._

Greg went out the door, but not before he saw the tears rolling down his boss's face, as he sat on Sara's bed that warm afternoon, the orange sunlight coming through the windows and casting long shadows on the carpet floor.

* * *

"…_. We have given her something for the pain…she had tore some of her stitches but we have managed to patch her back up… Your friend is very lucky. She'll be fine."_

Strange, I do not feel fine…

"_You call this lucky? What kind of doctor are you…?" _

There were people talking, around her. She had forgotten what that sounded like. It seemed almost impossible that there could be people talking.

"_Don't you dare tell say that she's lucky when you have no idea what she's been through. Get out of here, you son of a—"_

Sara blinked a few times, confused. Her body felt detached, like it belonged to someone heavier and softer. Her vision was out of focus, like a fish in a fishbowl, but she was still able to make out some details. The room was definitely different from the prison she had come to know and adapt. The walls beyond the edge of the bed were white, spotless. There were vases of flowers. The kind her mother used to love. She groped for a name, but she couldn't find one. She had forgotten about them; hadn't seen any for so long…

_Nevertheless, she was just happy to see flowers again…_

She tried to swallow, but that caused her to shut her eyes in discomfort. Her tongue felt swollen and foreign and she gently probed the inside of her mouth, tasting the cooper tang of blood that reminded her of thoughts that she wanted to keep away. Her head ached, a dull throbbing that radiated through her entire body. There was a needle in the back of her hand, clear fluid inside the tubing. She could see dried blood under the bandage that held it in place. She focused on her vein, blue beneath her pale skin. She had a foggy recollection of ripping the needle out of her arm moments ago and it made her cringed. She shifted slightly on her bed.

"_She's waking up! Hey you guys, Sara's coming around."_

She wasn't sure if she was hearing things or if it was her mind playing tricks on her. But she figured that it couldn't be her because she never found a reason to get up since she was taken. She never thought anyone would be that excited to see her awake.

"_Welcome back Sara. You had us all worried."_

She wanted to apologise to the voice for the trouble she had caused but she couldn't find her own voice. It was like it was sealed up inside of her, and she couldn't push any words past her lips. There was something about the voice that made her feel… special. Before this, she was yesterday's trash. Now someone was talking like she was made of expensive china. She felt this pressure on her heart, like the emotions she had kept within her were squeezing its way out.

"You're safe now." He whispered. "Don't be scared."

She blinked again and he appeared in her field of vision. Despite his blurred outline, she knew who he was. Nick reached up and brushed her face with the balls of his thumb. Like her mother used to do, when monsters came out at night… His touch was feather-soft. Sara flinched.

"Hey Sara…"

Sara's eyes began to fill with tears, and the room blurred into shades of gold and white as Nick's hand tightened around hers. She took a deep, painful breath as she said her first word.

_A word. In fact, there was only one._

"H—h-hi…"

**TBC**

* * *

I kinda felt bad leaving some characters out of my story. That's where Greg and Grissom (he may sound alittle harsh in this chapter. But we have to remember that he does care for Sara very much.) come in. I tried staying true to the characters, do let me know how I did.

I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. If you like it, do leave a review.


	20. No Man Sinned?

**Title**: In Hell with Love

**Rating**: T

**Disclaimer**: I do not own CSI or its characters. I'm just a fan

**Author's note: **Hey everyone! Sorry for the long wait. Writer's block seems to be on the rise. Hopefully you guys didn't catch it –smile-

To **xoSnickersxo** (thanks for your review. Hugs), **Crazedzombiemonkey** (I'm glad you like my story. Hope you'll like this chapter too. Hugs), **jdcocoagirl** (it took me awhile to write how Sara was feeling when she woke up, but it feels great knowing that you like it. Hugs), **necira** (Hugs. You are a smart and observant person. Sorry I took so long to write this chap), **bene** (Thanks for your review. I'm happy to see your review. Hugs), **apcJodi** (I heard the bells! Sorry for keeping you waiting. I always look forward to your review. Hugs), **gamg337** (thanks for your review. hugs), **leana9101** (I'm glad you like the previous chapter. Your review encouraged me greatly. Hugs), **Mma63** (a long, big hug goes out to you. Thank you for being so understanding and patient), **boneswhisper** (Sara will definitely remember everyone, but its going to take her sometime. Thanks for your review. Hugs), **Rach5** (its always nice to know that there are people out there reading my story. Thanks for your review. Hugs)

A big shout-out goes to **Meg-Breanne**, whose review and PM encouraged me to write this chapter. Thank you dear, I couldn't have done it without you. Hugs.

I guess I'm in a hug-y mood today. I guess I feel kinda bad for making you guys wait so long. If life wasn't so busy, I would be able to write a chapter a day. If only…

* * *

**Chapter 20**

_I had a friend. Her name was Sara. _

_Sara was a wonderful CSI. She solved cases, helped victims and was loved by everyone. But my friend was gone… _

_Where had my Sara gone?_

_-------------------_

"Do you know where you are?"

Her head shifted down. Her hair grinded against the pillow, like the mechanic sound of sandpaper on metal. Nick looked at Sara as she stopped, confused, and tucked her head down, chin close to her neck, as if ashamed that she couldn't answer such a simple question. It was like, she had an idea where she was, but she didn't want to jinx it by making hopeful speculations of the matter. She was afraid. Afraid that, if she moved or said the wrong thing she would wake up in her alternate universe, like she did many times before.

"You're in a hospital. At Desert Palms… You remember Desert Palms?"

Nick stared into Sara's eyes, watching them. Something was off. Apart from being black and blue, they were teary and did not seem to look at the same spot for more than 5 seconds at a time; constantly shifting within her eye sockets. Occasionally, her eyes would settle on an object, as if thinking of something, a million thoughts flowing through the junctions of her synapses. But the thoughts would disappear and she would jerk her head tiredly, like she was trying to catch them with her ears. There was an eerie calm to her glaze, a total opposite from the drama they've experienced several hours ago. Not once did she look at Nick in the eye, or made eye contact with anyone in the room.

"Do you know… who I am?" Nick stuttered, afraid of the answer to that question.

"P-pan-cho…" came a tired sigh. Her eyes came to rest at the corner of her pillow.

"That's right…that's right." Nick spoke as if he was taking deep breaths after being submerged underwater for so long. "Its me, Pancho. I'm Pancho."

She looked into his eyes for a second before they shifted to the side. Her corneas pushing her tears away, allowing them to flow gently down the side of her face, staining the pillow. She looked at Nick's hand around hers and opened up her hand, letting him go.

"You're safe now. No one's coming to get you…we're going to look after you, I promise."

With a sigh of relief, Catherine leaned back against her chair, while Brass moved to the foot of Sara's bed. His hands hovered a moment before resting on the wooden frame, concluding that touching Sara would not be the best thing to do at this point. "Its great to see you back kiddo." He said in a fatherly manner.

Sara had stopped looking around, almost as if she was too tired to move her eyes. Her state of mind had dissolved into a world of her own, leaving Brass to wonder if she had heard him. Under the warm hospital blanket, she pressed her knees against her body, her precious hands grabbing her knees that had cause her skin creased beneath her fingers. "P-pan-cho…"

"I'm right here Sara."

"Pan-cho…"

Nick looked at Catherine and then Brass with a fearful confusion etched in his face. Brass immediately moved next to Nick, trying to get Sara to look at him.

"Sara, this is Captain Brass. Can you hear me?"

She didn't respond.

Catherine stood up from behind the concerned detective, as he repeated his question. "Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"…P-pan-cho…"

Her voice drifted heavily across the room, as if her words were weighed down by the CSI's burdens and dragged reluctantly into their ears. Her tears flowed gently as her eyes went back to the corner of her pillow.

With her body curled into a foetal position, she lay still and as quiet as a mouse. She brought her arm weakly over her head, her hand covering her ear, like she was protecting herself. She said nothing else but was mouthing the word "Pancho", three at a time.

_Their worst fear had come to life._

She was reliving a memory. She was still trapped in her head in that room. As Brass went out to get the doctor and Nick sobbed by her bedside, Catherine realise that, even thought she was rescued, Sara never came home. They had lost her 2 years ago, and now, they're living with a ghost…

* * *

Sofia stared at the pictures that lay before her. Several ugly pictures of the room gave her a glimpse of the life Sara had been living in for the past year. It reminded her of an underground prison, or a gas chamber during the wars her forefathers fought. At least during those times, during those circumstances, what they did what they had to do. This monster didn't… 

She stared intensely at the pictures, even resorting to using a magnifying glass, searching every pixel of the photographs. She swore she was going to get him, not matter what it took…

She had been looking through the photos for past few hours. Ever since she drove back to the lab with the evidences they got from the hospital, she barely took a break. She didn't go home. She didn't eat. She didn't sleep. She had become like Sara.

_They all had_.

She went through each of them. Analysing and staring to a point where they looked like hundreds of blank jigsaw pieces shaped the same way. She pressed the bridge of her nose with her fingers and thumb. Who was she kidding? She was trained to be a detective, not a CSI. The most she ever did was dust for fingerprints on a payphone, or made observations that everyone knew long ago. What did she expect to accomplish by staring at a bunch of photos? Why is she doing this?

_Because she had to._

She looked around the lab. There was no one else around to go through the evidence. Warrick was processing the crime scene in the middle of the desert with Greg. Brass, Catherine and Nick were at the hospital with Sara. Grissom was… _where is he_? She grabbed some papers, straightened them out and headed for his office.

* * *

"Doctor, do you have a diagnosis?" Brass asked as soon as the doctor came into the room. 

The doctor went towards the bed, took out a small torch and shone it into Sara's eyes. "Voluntary eye movement… suggest conscious thought." He murmured, as if talking to himself. Sara's eyes twitched slightly. "Hair-line stress fracture…. slight fever…"

The CSIs watch as the doctor made his assessment on their friend.

"As far as my knowledge goes," he began, turning the torch off. "She's in a catatonic state. She is capable of following simple commands and repeating words in basic phases but otherwise… unresponsive." The doctor took off his glasses to clean them against his coat, as Nick and Brass looked at each other.

"What? Why? What caused this?" Nick asked.

"There could be a number of reasons. Firstly, she was given a lot of drugs. We had to medicate her for the pain, sedative to calm her down… and from what I understand, Mr. Stokes, you gave her a dose of heroine on the day she was rescued. Her body will experience some withdrawals."

The doctor looked up at Nick and the CSI couldn't help but feel like he was being accused of something. But before he could say anything, the doctor continued. "Secondly, she's suffering from severe psychological abuse, amplified by –as you can see—torture and stress. By mixing these two reasons, her mind is trying to cope with them, both physically and mentally. It's going to be near impossible to communicate with her as of now… but with time, there's a good chance for recovery." The men could tell that it was just as hard for the doctor to tell them as it was for them to hear it.

"But… she responded to me. She talked to me when she was in that—that room. She said 'hi' to me a moment ago… she talked to me, you have to believe me, doc. She talked to me."

"We don't know if that represents genuine communication." He said, standing up. "Replying to a simple greeting could be another programmed response… meaning nothing. "

"Will she remember anything?" Catherine asked, her voice shaking slightly.

"Amnesia caused by any traumatic event, injury or drug can erase memory before the event, not just after." He replied simply. "I'll order a tox screen."

"How long will she be like this?"

His shoulders tensed up as Nick ended his sentence, "Her mind is divorcing itself from reality as a way to cope with the trauma. There's no way of telling. I suggest you get her a psychiatrist. This case…is out of my league." The doctor put his glasses back on. "Even with help, it may take time though. Days, months, maybe even years…"

"Take time for what?"

"For her to trust anyone again." A hint of sadness sounded in his voice, as the doctor turned to walk out of the room.

* * *

Sofia gently tapped the side of the door of Grissom's office. The room was messier that she remembered it and there weren't as many jars containing bugs as the last time. They had probably died of neglect. Grissom gestured her to come inside. 

"Have you gone to see Sara yet, Grissom?"

Grissom looked up from his paperwork and shook his head. "Not exactly… Catherine has been updating me. And I have stopped by the hospital to ask how she was doing. But… now's not really a good time." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat; almost sure that Sofia could sense the guilt in his heart. But she didn't and seemed almost distracted about something else. "Have you? Heard that she regained consciousness not too long ago."

"I don't think I should see her. Contact with her may upset her even more instead of encourage her to talk. Besides, Catherine's there. She'll take care of her."

Grissom stared as the detective paced restlessly around the room. He could tell that something was bothering her. Sofia hardly acts this way. "Do you want some coffee? I could prepare a cup for you—"

"I'm not thirsty." She said, cutting him off, still pacing within her little circle.

"Okay…" He calmly replied, as he took off his glasses and placed them on the table. "Mad about something?"

Sofia stopped moving. She looked at Grissom and rubbed her forehead before opening her mouth to speak.

"Everything pointed to the fact that Sara was dead. Long gone. Missing indefinitely." She threw her right arm in the air before continuing. "I followed it. I did what I had to do. I've followed the evidence… And I believed it. I chose to believe rather than rely on that hope that she was still alive."

She threw a stack of pictures onto his table. The pieces of evidence glided across its surface, pushing his paperwork into an untidy pile. Judging by the look in her eyes, Grissom knew that she didn't mean to be rude, but she was clearly upset.

"Look at that. Just look at it."

Grissom looked. Before him laid Sara's medical records that Catherine took a few days ago, and Sara's personal file consisting of her family history and foster home placements. Skeletons slowly crawled out of the closet, making him feel as thought he had opened a Pandora's box without the permission. He looked at Sofia, seeing her point.

"As if she hadn't suffered enough. He had her for months and I just can't stop thinking about…what she has gone through and I can't stop thinking about how afraid she must have been and…I can't stop thinking about why I've ever given up on finding her."

Grissom looked up from the records he had been staring at while she spoke. Sofia had tears in her eyes. He had never seen her cry before. He understood what was going on. Sofia felt as guilty as he did…

"When I took this job, I was an outsider and…for a long time, I felt alone. What made it worse was that I was demoted. I couldn't look at anyone in the eye… I couldn't even do my job. I've confided in you… I've confided in Sara. We keep getting paired up in the field – and I have to admit— she has grown on me. I told her that I missed being trusted… so she trusted me. She trusted me, and I acted like she didn't. When she went missing, you know what my first thought was? 'Who's going to trust me the way Sara does?' What kind of friend thinks like that? Am I that selfish?"

She was rambling. With every word that came out of her mouth brought the truth that Sofia actually did care for Sara. Grissom finally realise why Sofia didn't stay in the hospital to see Sara. Its not that she didn't want to, it was because she felt like she didn't deserve it.

"She trusted me, I don't know why…" Sofia grabbed the evidence off his table and stormed out of his office. Grissom listened as her footsteps faded into the narrow corridor.

"She trusted you… because, there was once when she felt like an outsider too." He whispered and went back to his paperwork. As he prepared to write, he noticed a photograph Sofia left behind. It was a picture of a wall, with the words "NO MAN SINNED" written in -what seems to be- blood. He parted his lips as he realises what this was.

Sara was trying to tell them who did this to her.

**TBC**

* * *

_I decided to explore a little more on Sofia's character. Just think about it, she is kind of like Sara - new to the group, a little misunderstood, overlooked etc. I guess both of them could relate to each other. In some ways, we all can relate to her. (Most of Sofia's lines were written in the spur-of-the-moment, I felt like crap that day.) –Grin-_

_For all those who are a little confuse about the last part, I suggest that you read **Chapter 6** again. (Pay close attention to who the CSIs talk to.)_

_Hopefully this chapter is not too 'dry'. I'll try to make it better in the next chap. Review if you like it, review if you dont. Thanks._

_**Next chapter**: Nick and Catherine will try to reach out to Sara. Her tormentor will be coming for her. Will they be able to figure out who he is before its too late?_


	21. Killer Revealed

**Title**: In Hell with Love

**Rating**: T

**Disclaimer**: I do not own CSI or its character. I'm just a fan.

**Author's note**: I missed you guys.

To **jdcocoagirl** (I'm glad you liked it. Sofia deserved a moment of niceness.) **xoSnickerxo** (I tried my best to update. Sorry it took so long. No more Sara torture, I promise. But recovery will be a hard process.) **Rach5** (thanks for your review. That really encouraged me) **necira** (I was glad to see your review. Hopefully you'll be as pleased with this chap as you were with the previous) **Melissa** (I tried to add everyone. I'm glad you're happy with it. Btw I'm female, haha. But you can call me dude anytime.) **kate2007** (thanks for your review.) **Meg-Breanne** (Hugs. I love it when you review. I just read a story from xoSnickerxo where she gave you a shoutout. You're always there to keep us sane and inspired. Love ya) **leana9101** (here's the next chapter for you –grin- hope you'll like it) **TenderWild** (to my latest reviewer for the previous chapter, your review reminded me that I have a story to update. So thank you –smile-)

**Special Shoutout**: To **angiesfan**, thank you for writing a review. Knowing that you hardly write reviews made me feel really special when you wrote me one. I loved that you kept up with my story. I was worried that people will get turned off by the many chaps and words that I had to offer. Hope you'll enjoy this chap too. Hugs.

Phew. My shoutouts are getting longer and longer. But in a way, you guys deserve it – smile-

* * *

**Chapter 21**

_… even though she was rescued, Sara never came home. They had lost her 2 years ago, and now, they're living with a ghost…_

_---------------------_

Smoke flowed out through the open window. Slow and heavy, like being pulled out by a force against its will. His car hummed with a low intensity, vibrating his chair. He sat in his seat, thinking about his next move. He had been called for a psychiatric investigation on one victim: A victim he couldn't get his mind off ever since she went away…

_Sara Sidle._

He was excited. In a few days, he'll walk through those doors and into her hospital room to evaluate her. He was called specifically by name. He was, after all, her PEAP counsellor, and there was no one else more qualified than he was.

_Oh… the perks of being who he is._

He knew her strengths, her weakness, her joys and her fears. She will not be afraid of him. _She would be too afraid to be afraid of him_. He laughed at the irony. He had conditioned her not to tell a soul who he was. He had conditioned her to do what he says. He had complete control over her—his successful experiment. Surges of electricity flew through his vessels at the thought of seeing her again. He deeply inhaled the noxious smog… He had to smoke. Smoking helped calm him down, but it did nothing about the fear that came into his heart with a sudden realisation.

_What if… what if she did confide in someone? What if she uttered his name for everyone to hear? What if they called him specifically to arrest him?_

_No, no, no… she wouldn't._

She knows what would happen to her if she did. She knows what would happen to her 'friends' if she talked. Sara was the kind of person who would protect anyone. Anyone… she thought worth protecting… she would protect even him, her tormentor. That was her weakness. He had exploited that. _She wouldn't tell. She wouldn't._

For once, he felt afraid. Paranoid even. It was the first time he actually felt that he might get caught. He felt a little tint of anger at the possibility of being discovered, and the CSI were just jerking him around, inviting him for a mock evaluation. _No one messes with him. No one_. Sara wouldn't tell. She wouldn't tell…

_She belongs to him…_

With the feeling of control slipping through his fingers like a heavy pile of goo, he threw the cigarette out the window and drove away from the hospital.

He'll be back in a few days…

And he'll do whatever it takes to take her back with him.

* * *

"_No change in her condition, but the lack of deterioration is a good sign… Give her time, Mr Stokes," the doctor cleared his throat. "Like I said many times before, Ms Sidle has been through a lot. She may have spoken to you but that could mean nothing… For what she needed, you could have been anyone…"_

Words had hurt him before, but that last line was the biggest blow of them all.

Nick could not understand, for a moment, how someone could trust him with a hug to avoiding him all together. He stood by her hospital window, unsure of whether he should enter. The glass had blurred his existence, like he was on a whole different universe and the window was the portal that separated his world from Sara's. He watched her thin form sitting in the corner, staring intently at a small section of the hospital's wall. Her fingers were tracing the hairline cracks on its surface, as if writing some spiritual incantation to ward off all evil.

_Evil…_

Every now and then, he would call Warrick in the lab, giving them an update on Sara's condition in exchange for a lead in the case. He and Grissom had been working tirelessly, looking through Sara's writings on the wall, but none of them had pointed out who did this to her. The evidence never lies, but in this case, it's not speaking up. They knew it was just a matter of time before her tormentor comes back for her. Either they break the case and find out whoever did this, or it was up to Sara to tell them.

_But so far…Sara had been silent…_

For the past day or so, Catherine and Nick had been trying to get Sara to talk to them. Taking turns, one hour at a time, to sit in her room and try. Their progress was slow, but they didn't give up. There were times when she ignored them completely, while on several occasions, she would look at them with a little hint of recognition. Tiny reactions like these prompt them not to give in, believing that she would come around in no time. But, according to the higher officials, slow progress means that nothing can be done and they are to surrender this case to the psychiatric division once her PEAP counsellor arrives.

_Nothing can be done for her…all those years of getting to know Sara will vanish, taken away by the arms of men with white coats and rimed glasses._

Nick traced Sara's outline onto the glass window, hoping that mimicking whatever she's doing will help him understand her more. It was his turn with her. Catherine had gone downstairs to get some coffee. He was told that her PEAP counsellor is coming in today, and he wanted to get through to her before he would lose her forever.

With his shaking hand gripping a food tray, Nick entered Sara's room…

* * *

"I don't understand. '_No man sinned'_? Sara is not a religious person. What on earth could this mean?" Grissom asked, practically talking to himself.

The picture with those words was placed in the centre of the wide table, with several other evidences branching out like a messed-up family tree. On a board adjacent to the table were the doctor's reports of Sara's injuries, and other photographs that constantly reminded them that this case wasn't a dream. There were so many that some had to be placed over one another or pinned at smallest of corners, swaying pitifully. Others had fallen onto the marble floor, neglected by the CSI team, who refused to pick them up unless they had a reason to.

"We'll figure it out." Warrick began, flipping through the photographs. One fell to the floor and he bended down to pick it up.

All Grissom heard after that was a sigh. An extremely heavy sigh. He watched Warrick through glasses that sat at the tip of his nose, as the younger CSI stood up from under the table. He was staring so hard that the photo that Grissom had to ask what was wrong.

"How much pain do you have to be in to leave scratch marks like these on the walls?" Those words alone were enough to get Grissom's attention. He grabbed the photo from Warrick. Several claw-like indentations on the copper-red wall were photographed with such detail that Grissom swore he could smell the rust and blood through the picture.

Both of them stared. Grissom, at the picture, and Warrick, into empty space.

"Lots…" He finally said. With a bit of hesitation and disgust, he gave the photo back to Warrick, "Right now, I don't care about anything. We'll find him and make him pay for what he did to Sara." Waves of silence fury came over the older man like heat, and Warrick knew exactly what Grissom wanted to do right then. He knew because he felt it too, twisting and turning in his gut, ripping through.

They wanted revenge. _It was that simple_. They wanted to make it slow, and they wanted to make it last. But first, they have to find out who did this.

_And that… wasn't so simple._

* * *

_From this point on… this is the crucial stage. Everything will be dependent on her recovery. She's probably stressed out right now. The shock seemed to be a little too much, but there's no rushing or giving up. The aim here, is to get her relaxed. Her recovery has just begun…_

Easier said than done.

Nick cautiously walked into the room. The blinds of the window facing the beautiful view of Nevada had been pulled down, the sunrays barely squeezing through. The table lamp glowed, but even with the light coming in from the corridor, Sara's room was darker than a janitor's closet. Her room, from the corridor window, looked like a small animal enclosure. Within its walls however, Nick felt as though he had entered a cave of some sort, with the lamp radiating a fire-orange warmth of a home forgotten a long time ago. The hospital was nice enough to provide them with a private ward, so they would be left undisturbed by the world outside, which had decided to move on without them. As he walked closer to the hunched figure, she became aware of his presence and stopped tracing the cracks, as if frozen in fear.

_Fear…_

Ever since she woke up, Sara had chose to lie in the darkest corner, on the hard hospital floor than remain on the soft hospital bed. A small makeshift loft made up of a messy blanket pile marked the only spot she was comfortable with. But even in her comfort zone, she hardly slept, and the only time she closes her eyes long enough to be considered sleep was when the doctor comes by to sedate her.

Her eyes were red from all the crying, and they reminded him of the ones he had seen on victims during their cases. Their eyes watching, yeaning and pleading for help. He wondered how much drugs Sara had been given, both before and after her rescue.

The tray shaking in his hands shook him out of that thought. The metal spoon was making too much noise against the saucer. He imagined himself in her eyes and wondered if he looked like a massive and scary closet monster to her, or even worse…

With that thought in mind, he forced a smile upon his face.

"Hey Sara… I got you some food. You must be hungry… you have not eaten in a while." His voice sounded like a fake cheer. Nick placed the tray as close as he could to Sara, before taking one step back. Several strands of her hair flowed to the front of her face, but she made no effort to push them aside. Unmoving and still in her slouching position, her eyes shifted as if to see what it was, before staring at him suspiciously.

Nick's eyes shifted between Sara and the tray.

"Oh…the food is yours." He said, rising his hands in mock surrender. "I haven't done anything to it. I promise it's not a trick. I'm not going to take it away from you at the last second or anything. You can trust me on that. Come on… you've got to eat something."

_Or else we have to feed her through a tube_… the doctor's words echoed in his head, but he refuse to say it out loud. Sara doesn't need anyone to do anything to her. The last thing she needs right now is someone forcing food down her throat. He would not allow anyone to take away anything else from her. He took another step back, and turned around, knowing that he would appear less threatening if his back was facing her.

It worked.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Sara, her knuckles dragging across the floor and grabbing the closest piece of bread. The soup that came along with it sat untouched, as Sara nibbled slowly on the only food product she had touched since she was admitted. There was a tremendous pressure weighting down on his chest, as part of him knew that even simple actions like eating would be painful for this strong woman. It took a lot of will for Nick to control himself from running towards the abused figure and giving her a hug—a hug that will take away all her pain and suffering.

"That's it…" Nick whispered brokenheartedly, his throat closing, his words choking him. He crouched down, a few feet away from her, down to her level and looked at her bruised face. His chest tightened painfully. He clenched his fists tightly, attempting to centre himself, before speaking.

"I know I'm the last person you want to see right now, but just to let you know… you're the first person I wanted to see ever since I got here."

Sara looked at him for a fraction of a second. Her body tensed up, as she realised that he was talking to her.

"The man who took you… he can never hurt you again. I don't know what he did to you and I can't possibly understand what you're going through. But I'm going to make him pay. I promise you…"

_Enough with the promises…_ His mind mocked. Sara slowly turned away like she was thinking the same thing. The bread in her hand didn't appeal to her anymore.

"I know that you've been through a lot. I know what its like to feel like its never going to end. I know how it's like to hate the person who did this and having to relive every memory… but you have to understand… This wasn't your fault. Stop blaming yourself for everything that happened to you."

Nick shook his head slightly as he corrected himself. "…For everything that is happening to you. You don't need to hide now. He can't hurt you anymore. Its over."

Initially, Nick was encouraged —in a way, ordered—not to talk about whatever happened to Sara. The doctors had made it clear—43 times— that "_the human mind is a fragile thing_". Apparently, to doctors, if you didn't possess a medical degree, you're an idiot, and would most likely fall into the nearest ditch unless there's a doctor to tell you that your eyes were made for sight. He had been obedient so far, but today, being the last time he would see Sara, Nick decided to give it a try.

"The man who hurt you…he can't touch you now. I won't let him. I won't allow it. Right now, I need you to try and remember. I need you to remember who you are. Your name… Can you remember your name?

_No response._

He hesitated, not really sure of what to say. Before he knew it, words were coming out like a gentle stream, with truth flowing out of his mouth.

"Your name is Sara Sidle. You're a Level 3 CSI working in Clark County, Nevada. You specialised in material analysis. You used to work in San Francisco, but Grissom called you to investigate the Holly Gribbs case. You remember Grissom? He's our boss…"

The room was so still and quiet that Nick could hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. His collar had this unnatural heat that radiated around his neck.

"You were born and raised in California. Your birthday's on September 16… and you hate celebrating it every year because, to you, every year brings you closer to death and away from life."

_Why did you have to bring up death?_

Nick felt like a boy trying to climb a flight of stairs 3 steps at a time, only to fall before he reached the top. He kept going, following the momentum that was pushing him down.

"Your mother's name is Laura Sidle. Your father's na… – I don't know your father's name—but when you were young… your mother killed your father in self-defence. You were dumped into the foster care system. You never really got over it, but you've found ways…"

As Nick spoke about the past, Sara became upset when she heard how her life was and how her life turned out to be. Renewed tears started to form in her eyes.

"I know this because you told me… you told me all these things about you because I told you I was afraid. I was afraid after my kidnapping… and you helped me…you didn't even ask anyone for help and yet you helped everyone you meet. That's you. That's you Sara Sidle. That's who you are."

_'So let me help you… just talk to me. Please… just talk. Why won't you talk to me?'_ His mind screamed in his skull like a panicked bird fighting to get out of its cage. He wasn't blaming Sara though… he was blaming himself.

"2 years ago, we were attacked by an unknown man… in an alleyway close to where we worked. We were attacked… but only you were taken. We don't know why… but you had been missing for 2 years Sara…"

The heart monitor beeped, and he could tell that she was still mad with fright, her heart pounding frantically in her chest. He pulled back slowly, giving her space before continuing.

"There were times when… we felt that we should have given up. I can honestly say that there were times we have accepted the fact that you were gone for good. But then… a thought of you… a thought of you telling us a joke or coming back to work made us hope again. We curse ourselves for thinking this way… We had no excuse…"

She turned away from him and leaned her forehead against the wall's surface. Her body shook as she tried to suppress her sobs, her bony fingers barely covering her face. Nick could not help but feel a little jealous of the wall, as Sara would rather cry on its cold, hard surface than his warm, comforting shoulder. He decided to try a different approach.

"When I was taken, placed in a glass box and left for dead, I kept thinking to myself, '_Nick…any minute now, the guys will solve the case and come get you. The next minute from now, you –Nick Stokes – will be rescued._'"

His voice sounded like a commercial with a Texan cowboy telling kids not to play with guns, but it slowly became serious. "…And then… that minute will go by, and then the next and the next… and before you know it, hours had passed… hours had passed, and you're still where you are."

He looked up as he thought about his own nightmarish experience. The fluid in her IV bag dripped into her tube like tears. Somewhere in the room, a piece of bread laid forgotten on the floor.

"I understand the disappointment. It must have been so hard for you to think that… tomorrow will be your day of rescue, only to wake up… still in hell. At first, you'll ask yourself, _'what have you done to deserve this'_. For the longest time, you were optimistic that everything will be okay… but it didn't, did it? … In fact, it got worse … Days will pass… weeks even, and nothing had changed. Finally, you became convince that … no one's coming… no one's coming to get you… you have been forgotten…"

His eyes started to hurt.

"That's why you wanted me to let you die. When I came to get you, you wanted to die because, to be forgotten was worse than a torture of a thousand cuts… worse than what you have been through…"

Nick swallowed hard and felt his own hands shaking.

"You were not forgotten. I… We thought about you everyday… And I could only hope… hope that you thought about us too. Please…please tell me that you haven't forgotten us… forgotten me. I could only hope…"

He inched closer and placed his hand on the small of her back. He could feel the bones, the scars, and the xylophone-shape of her spine. She was breathing so hard it was like she was trying to breathe through the cracks on the walls.

"I know how it's like to come out of this, feeling like you have nothing. Right now, you may feel lonely and apprehensive about everything, but I'll always be by your side. I will always protect you no matter what. So please, let me trust my last hope with you…"

His voice was close to a whisper. He slowly took her hand and she made no attempt to push him away. He held it gently and carefully opened her clenched fist. His hand was warm and soft. His thumb brushed her fingers as she relaxed, opening her hand.

"I'll make him pay for what he did to you…"

Her tears fell, and she could feel the coldness of the wall on her bare cheek. She began to cry convulsively, her body aching. Her wounds felt like tearing, her stitches felt like popping. Her mind was still overwhelmed by the whole situation. She wept. But not because of the pain or confusion…

_It was because he understood…_

Slowly, she pushed herself off the wall and into his arms. Her head leaning against his chest as she cried herself out. Nick's arm around her tightened, but he didn't interrupt her. She needed this. She had to let it out…

_He kept his promise…_

By now, his face was wet with tears, but he didn't make a sound. He didn't want her to know that he was crying too. Crying for her…

_He kept his promise to her. He kept his promise to the team. Even though it was just a small part of her… Nick brought Sara home. _

As Nick held Sara in his arms, the man responsible for all of her sufferings stood outside her window, watching them. The glass between them had made him practically invisible from the inside. He clenched his fist. Well hidden in his pockets were 2 syringes filled with the strongest tranquillisers he could find.

_She belongs to him…_

With anger placing murder in his heart, he walked away from the hospital window.

He'll be back in a few hours…

And he'll do whatever it takes to take her back with him…

_Even if it means getting rid of anyone who gets in his way…_

**TBC**

* * *

_I missed you all... I know I have this habit of apologising for late updates, but I'm really sorry. As an apology, I wrote this long chapter for you all. I really hope you'll like it._

_-cough- a review would be nice –cough-_

_"That's why you wanted me to let you die." -- For the confused and lost, Remember chapter 11 and 12?_

_This chapter goes out to anyone who has ever felt forgotten or alone. I may not know who you are or what you're going through… but I mean it when I say, 'I love you all'. Hugs._


	22. Code of Silence

**Title**: In Hell With Love

**Rating**: T

**Disclaimer**: I do not own CSI or its characters. I'm just a fan.

**Author's** **notes**: I hate myself for making you all wait so long. I really do. I don't mind if you all feel the same way.

To **jdcocoagirl** (always one of the first to review my story. To bring out such an emotion from you in the previous chapter is such an honour. Hope you'll like this one too), **Poison's Ivy** (LoL. One of the few reviews where a reader swears. Not at me of course. Thanks for your awesome review. Love ya), **xoSnickersxo** (your review made me jump and I spend the next few days under the bed. Haha. But it's always a joy to read your reviews and your stories.), **apcJodi** (you have this talent of making a short review remain in my mind for the longest time. Thank you –grins), **Fiddle-faddle** (reading your review made me wished I had updated sooner. I'm so sorry for making you wait. Hope you haven't forgotten about this story.), **Miranda** (I love that you appreciate the pace of my story. I was getting worried that people might get bored with it after awhile. I usually put in a lot of thought in my stories, rushing kinda goes against that. Thank you - hugs), **Gear's Girl** (Thanks for your review. I really like your response to the previous chapter –smile), **leana9101** (Yay! Cheers to you too, dear. I'm really glad you like the previous chapter - hugs), **fanficaddict** (I'm really, really sorry for making you wait. I do try my best to update and I do put in a lot of effort to make this story worth reading for you. I hope you'll like this chap.), **Meg-Breanne** (Thank you so much for your understanding. Life does have its ups and downs. It's weird that I always look forward to your reviews. They are always, without a doubt, inspirational – grin), **necira **(yay! You reviewed. I'm really happy that you did and that you found my fics intriguing and well written. Love ya lots), **CrazyGunFire **(I glad that you're still reading my stories. I've stopped watching CSI as well due to the lack of time but hopefully, I haven't messed up the characters' personalities yet. Let me know how I'm doing k), **Mma63 **(I'm so sorry I didn't get to update sooner when I said I would. Reading your review for this reply made me feel really bad. I'm really sorry. Hopefully this long chap will make up for it –hugs), **Rach5** (Hey Rach, thanks for your review. I'm trying my best to tone down the angst level for you. Hopefully you'll like this chap. Let me know if you do k), **dolphin18paradise** (Yay! I'm glad you think so. I'm really hoping that each update will get better and better. Thanks for your review), **Olie** (Hey Olie! I hope you're still reading this story. Sorry for the extremely long update. I'm really glad that this is your new fave story. Hope you're still checking in for an update. Miss ya lots.), **whashaza **(Thanks for your review. No worries, the CSIs will figure it out eventually. Hope you'll like this update), **bene **(to my very last reviewer, thank you for your review. It made me remember to update this story. Its really great to hear from you again –smile)

Thank you all for your review. This was the first time I've gotten 18 reviews! That's awesome. Because of that – and the fact that I took so long to update—I wrote a really long chapter for you all. (Will I get 20 reviews this time?) 

Someone PM me saying that he wanted to know what went on before Sara was rescued. I thought it was a good idea so I decided to put it in my story. That person did not want to be credited but just in case he's reading this, thank you for the idea. This chap is for you.

* * *

  
**Chapter 22**

_And wherever a man is against his will, that to him is a prison._

_- Epictetus -_

------------------------- 

_He said that she was the one—the special one chosen by him. She often wondered how that could be since there was no way anyone would treat someone special like this._

_It's odd though. For so long, that's all she ever wanted to be._

_She laid quietly on the cold, dank floor. The sound of water oozing from a leaking pipe prevented her from closing her eyes, hitting the ground at irregular intervals that made her eyelids twitch in its rhythm. She was surrounded by the familiar darkness; all she could see were silhouettes of things she did not know, or things she knew, which were probably dead by now. The ground around her felt sticky, a puddle crawling with life from the wound on her shoulder. He had gone too far. He had never hurt her this bad before… _

_But… maybe it was a good thing. For once, his precise calculated moves had shifted to a whole other balance, to a whole new world that might tip to her favour. Maybe she had to suffer a little to get a whole lot... or was it the other way round?_

_She stared at the silver lining beneath the door. It kept her company for so long, she felt that it was her only friend in this hellhole. She might have given it a name, but right now, she can't remember what. Its glow gave her this shimmer of hope and yet, at the same time, reminded her of things she could not have. As she indulged in her reminiscence of her lost memories, she heard his footsteps descending down the wooden stairs. A small shadow parted her thin silver lining and she knew... That's how she knew he was coming. And he was coming back for her..._

_To fix what he broke..._

_He'll always come back for her. Even if she managed to get away, he'll never leave her alone…_

* * *

"What are you dreaming about?" He softly asked as he looked at her face. "I wish I knew...what's going on in your mind..."

Together on the cold hospital floor, Nick laid beside Sara's sleeping form, face to face, just a few inches away from her. His face was just far enough not to frighten her half to death when she woke up, but yet, close enough to make her feel safe during this horrible ordeal. Moments ago, he had laid her down slowly on her messy blanket pile after he felt her tight grip loosen around his shirt. As her sobs died down and her bitter exhaustion took over her whole body, Nick felt relieved that Sara finally managed to get some sleep— on her own terms and without sedatives. But even in her dreams he knew that Sara was plagued by the constant reminder of what had happened, or—quite possibly— the lack of it. Memories piecing into her soul like fragmented glass on a broken window. He imagined how it was like in her dreams, and wondered if she could tell the difference between waking and sleep. But within that same moment, he shook his head in response to his own thoughts as he knew that, both universes would be a nightmare to her existence either way.

Nevertheless, he did what he could to make sure she was comfortable. He placed a pillow under her head and positioned her arms in a way that the wires and tubes would not hurt her. He brushed her hair out of her face and with the steady hands that only a CSI could possess, he wiped her tears from her face. But at each wipe, Sara tucked her chin towards her neck, as if not wanting to be touched and Nick decided not to do what she did not want him to do.

A tear had made its way to the tip of her nose. Nowhere else to go and hanging on for dear life, it threatened to fall with each and every breath she took. Nick rescued it with his feather-soft touch, balancing it with ease on his finger. He watched as the fading light in the room captured its outline and wondered how something so beautiful could come out of such a tragic emotion. It made him sad to imagine how many droplets such as this had gone unnoticed while Sara was away.

"Hey…" said a voice by the door. Nick turned to see Catherine walking into the room, with two cups of coffee in her hands. He hadn't notice that his hour was up, and it was Catherine's turn with Sara.

Sara's tear rolled off his finger and landed on the floor and he couldn't help but feel a huge sense of loss.

"How is she?" 

Nick sat up as Catherine treaded gently towards them. "Asleep…"

"Sedated?"

"Nope… first time since she got here" 

Catherine took her place beside Nick and watched Sara as she slept. She was buried deep in white hospital sheets with the only sign of life being her deep breathing and the bleeps on monitor.

"She's doing better… at least physically. Her injuries are healing the way they should. But the doctors are still a little concern and worried about complications. But apart from a fever, she is doing better…" 

Catherine looked on. As much as she wanted to believe Nick, the image before her was anything but better. Sara looked like an outline of an artist's rough sketch. Just lines and shapes that were slowly fading away.

"That's good to know…" she replied absentmindedly.

"She responded to me a while ago. But she still hasn't told me anything. Is it alright with you if I stay a little longer with her?"

Catherine was about to answer when Nick said, "She's going to panic when she awakens. I can tell, just by looking at her, that her dreams are not good."

She pondered about what Nick said. Whenever Sara awakens from her sedation, she would just lay where she was, too tired and sluggish to move. And once the drugs in her system wear off after a few hours, she would be too afraid to leave the room, staying within her comfortable shadow of isolation until the next dose arrives. The sedatives that she was given –according to the doctors— will put her in a deep, dreamless state, as the sole purpose of the drugs was to help her body rest.

A telltale sign of a nightmare was an increase heart rate. Sara's heartbeat was above normal.

* * *

_The nightmare has just begun…_

_He opened the door and light spilled into the room like a glass of milk on the black kitchen floor. Its radiance was just out of reach but she managed— with tremendous effort— to touch it with the tips of her fingers. In the light that looked like a glowing tent, she watched the dust motes settle to the ground. Just another one of her inanimate friends, allowing her to distract herself as the devil himself draws near._

_Walking from the light, he stood before her and the glittering dust motes swirled away. She tried to look up at him but her pounding skull was too heavy. She stared at his shoes as he came closer and she knew how she was supposed to act at that very moment. Kicking and screaming seemed appropriate. Running would have been even better. But she didn't. She couldn't. She was too tired. For every moment of every day, since she's been here, she never had the strength to do anything else..._

_In her sluggish breathing, she smelt the dull scent of menthol cigarettes, and knew that her death would mean nothing to this man if he's willing to go out for a smoke while she bled in his dark secret room. As he took his last step towards her, his shoes left an aroma of the desert and she wondered why she hadn't appreciated it more when she was alive and well. It reminded her of the beach, and she prayed that there would be white sands waiting for her if she ever gets to heaven…_

_The human race's ever wanting desire, is to get to heaven…_

_The question is, is she still a part of that human race?_

* * *

"I have this feeling, that once she awakens, she would act the same way she did when she first opened her eyes in this room."

As he said that, Catherine looked at the band-aid on his face. A reminder of whatever happens when a person sets his hopes on things as fragile as the human memory.

"I'm not sure of what to do when that happens…"

"When the time comes, you'll know what to do."

Nick was distracted by the wound on Sara's collarbone, so she prompted. "Sara has been through a lot. I'm sure you already know that. The worst she has suffered was being alone, feeling unloved, having no one. There is nothing worse than the feeling that no one cares whether we exist or not, that no one is interested in what we have to say about life, and that the world can continue turning without our awkward presence. Because when you're alone, it's like as if you were no longer part of the human race…"

Nick was beginning to think that Catherine has been hanging out with Grissom too much since they've found Sara. They were beginning to sound alike. 

"So make her a part of that human race again. You'll know what to do when that time comes."

Nick thanked Catherine as she headed out of the room, promising to be back once she's done talking to Brass. The moment he was alone with Sara, Nick knew what he had to do. He was the only one who could can her feel like a person, instead of a captive mind dragging a useless bag of bones behind it.

He could only hope that she felt the same way…

* * *

_If only feeling was an option…_

_He gently pushed her on her back to get a closer look at her wound. She felt the dirty ground pushing against her back. Her waxy blood around her had stuck her skin to the floor, acting like a fuel that burnt every muscle and cell surrounding her spine. She felt a cool ripple of tears gathering at the corners of her own eyes. Some droplets broke free and flowed unhindered down her face. She heard him cursed under his breath as he looked at her wound._

_While he was pondering what to do next, she stared right at his face and knew that no matter how hard she looked, she would not be able to remember what he looked like. Just another fascinating nature of human survival; to filter out whatever hurts, to avoid whatever harms, to fear whatever torments—so that the body can live another day, thinking that it's possible for the human mind to be absolutely happy. For the many months she had been here, his face was like a piece of smooth clay on a turntable. But she knew that when the time was right, she would be able to pick him out of a faceless crowd, or a messy police line-up filled with everyday monsters that looked almost alike each other._

_A monster… is that what he is?_

_He turned away for a moment and took out a needle and thread; his weapon of choice for the moment. As he inched closer, he told her it was her fault and everything happened because of her…_

_He says that all the time and she was starting to believe him…_

_Like a ragged doll with broken seams, she laid on the ground as he stitched her wound. She felt the thread rub against her skin like rope burns on hands and she held her breath as her skin merged together to close the wound._

_She wished someone would come through those doors and save her. But no one came and she was left alone with a man who obviously never stitched anything in his life, let alone a human wound…_

* * *

Just as Nick predicted, Sara woke up and the first thing she tried to do was to get as far away from him as possible. She opened her eyes, as if startled by a nightmare and tried to head towards the door as Nick grabbed her from behind.

"Remember where you are. Remember who I am…" He said immediately as Sara fought and thrashed about. Nick wondered if its going to be like this, every time she awaken. _If so, he vowed to stay with her through every waking moment..._

Her breathing and heart rate on the machine added to the chaos that dispelled the silence within the room. Anyone passing by her window would think that the patient was being mistreated - seeing how her outstretched hand reached out for the door- and that Nick was the one administering the abuse. But thankfully, visiting hours were over, nurses were changing shifts and there were no one wandering the halls at that moment.

During the struggle, Nick was hoping that Sara would shout a series of 'no' or 'let me go' – and with any luck, the name of her tormentor behind them—but sadly, none of that happened. She fought hard, sobbed tearfully, and that was it.

He was beginning to worry, as he didn't have to fight as hard as he did the first time. Either Sara was getting physically weaker or…

The struggle took several minutes before Sara began to calm down. In his grip of her, Nick felt the tension in Sara's body melt away and it was only when he was sure that she wasn't going to run for the door did he let go of her. Slowly, he helped her sit up, and moved to face her as he held her hands in his. He looked at her, and noticed that her eyes held confusion, as if she wasn't sure what exactly happened.

"It's alright. You're alright. I know you can recognise me. I can see it in your eyes. Do you know who I am?"

She was rocking back and forth slightly as Nick waited for her answer. With her head bowed and hair covering a portion of her face, Sara looked Nick straight in the eye and he knew the answer.

In her code of silence, Sara's answer was yes.

* * *

_"Alright…" She heard him say. His voice synchronising with his opened mouth. It took him several minutes to patch her up and within those terrible minutes, she laid there wishing that she had died, and that everything would end forever at that moment. Her tormentor looked anxiously at her. He placed his arm under her back and encouraged her to sit up. The blood rushed into her brain at the speed of light and her vision blurred as he led her to the wall._

_He spoke as he fastened the chains onto her hands. His words did not make sense at first but she managed to understand why he positioned her this way. The wound had to be above her heart and he wasn't going to let her sit down at the risk of her falling asleep. He needed her awake for as long as possible._

_For her, the worst possible torture was not being able to sleep…_

_When she finally understood the peril she was in, she tearfully protested that she wouldn't do such a thing. She promised to stay awake till someone came to get her. She promised not to tell. She promised to do anything as long as he doesn't leave her here. He took a syringe out of his pocket and told her that such an action was out of the question. He couldn't risk being caught. He couldn't risk losing her. He apologised as he emptied its contents into her veins. The familiar feel of heroin flowed through her body._

_"Watch what you say and do now… don't want your friends to end up like you, right? Remember…I'll be watching you."_

_Even before he said it, she knew that was coming. Toying with other people's lives was his way of controlling her, driving her insane._

_As he walked away from her, she let out a painful, almost animalistic cry, as if she wanted her voice to haunt his dreams and memories if he ever decides to grow a conscience. Anger flowed like the tears on her face and fear lingered like the blood on her clothes. How on earth is anyone going to find her here?_

_She leaned heavily against her forearms as the light within the room escorted her tormentor out the door. Her muscles were furiously stretching and contracting in order to produce energy to keep herself alive. The cold pierced her skin, her body struggling, teeth chattering, as she told herself that help is on the way. Her muscles refused to obey and she remained like that for hours, until her muscles eventually gave in and stopped shaking as she entered a state of torpor._

_During those hours, she was afraid to say or think of anything else— convinced that he could read her thoughts and it would be her fault if her friends were to die because of what she said or did. She stared at the wall before her and remembered a message—as incoherent as it may be— that she carved in her moment of fear and desperation. If her silence was necessary to keep her friends alive, this wall would have to be her voice, and she could only pray that they could understand what she was trying to say…_

* * *

One of the most baffling phases the two men had ever encountered in their lives...

No man sinned.

They came out with several theories; from religion to sanity, from imagination to emotion. But none of which could explain why Sara would hurt herself, carving words with her nails, if it meant nothing. 

"Maybe he's the religious one? Something he said to her?" Warrick guessed.

"It wouldn't serve any purpose. Sara would know that we would have to go through every church or registry to find a suspect. It would be easier for her to carve a cross than to write out a phase."

There was a moment of silence that was so profound that it felt like the world around them had died. No sounds from the front desk, no carts being pushed around, no one talking among themselves. No hope, no joy, no clue, no suspect, no one. It was as if the world had fallen silent because Sara's soul has.

"Didn't one of the kidnapped victim say that this was written on the wall with red paint or blood?" Warrick said, rummaging the table to looking for the victim's file.

Grissom looked on, "Wherever it was, it's not there anymore… "

During their search in at the crime scene, the CSI searched everywhere for the message that one of the kidnapped victims said was on the wall. There was none. Instead, carvings similar to the message on the wall were found, along with scratch marks that belonged to Sara.

"Was she lying?" Warrick asked, disappointed that Grissom didn't join in the search for the file.

"Unlikely. The message is the same. Either it was removed by the suspect or Sara told her to tell that to the police."

They must be on the right track. If Sara mentioned this phase more than once, she was definitely trying to get their attention.

* * *

She had his attention. Nick was ecstatic with Sara's progress, no matter how insignificant it may seem. He had managed to understand her code of silence. Whenever she looked towards him between questions, it would mean a 'yes', shake her head slightly means 'no'. Looking away was an indication that she didn't know or she didn't want to talk about it, which Nick respected to a great degree.

"Do you know who I am?"

(Yes)

"Do you know who did this?"

Sara turned away, and Nick concluded that she knew but did not want to say 'yes' to avoid looking at him.

"Want to talk about it?"

(No)

_Guess you can't really talk about it…_ Nick thought, and even after a few more questions, Sara continued to ignore him regarding this matter.

"He threatened you… didn't he?"

She looked at him but quickly turned away, eyes full of regret, as if making a mistake. But Nick saw what he needed to see. He decided to change the subject.

"Can I get you something?"

(No)

"You feeling okay?"

(Don't know) 

_That's not good,_ "Are you cold?"

Sara continued to look away, and as he removed his jacket slowly, he realised that he had made a terrible mistake. For the moment the zipper on his jacket made a sound, that left Sara frozen with fear. Tears began streaming down her face and she bit her lip to suppress a cry. Nick cursed in his mind, as the results of a certain medical report nagged in his head.

Without wasting another second, he placed his jacket over her. The weight of its brown material had brought her shoulders an inch closer to the ground. However, the extra skin did calm her down, enough for her to meticulously put her arms through its big, giant sleeves, her hands barely visible at the ends.

Nick heaved a big sigh of relief.

"I'm so sorry." He apologised, "How do you feel now?"

_Stupid. 'Yes' and 'no' questions only_, his mind mocked and just as he was about to ask another question, Sara slowly grabbed his hand and squeezed it tightly. 

Nick knew what it meant.

_Scared_.

Nick's heart swelled with empathy and just as he was about to reassure her, he caught a glimpse of someone at the window. He thought nothing of it but as he turned to look at Sara he knew, that she saw it too.

_Someone was coming this way…_

Nick grew increasing concerned and uneasy, wondering what—or who— could make Sara this petrified. Still facing the window, Sara's hand tightened around his and could not stop shaking.

_He'll always come back for her. Even if she managed to get away, he'll never leave her alone…_

_Never._

There was a knock on the door…

**TBC**

* * *

Phew. Hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Sorry once again for taking so long.

I hope you'll leave a review. Whether you hate it, love it, annoyed by it, angry with me for taking so long etc, I'll take any review - smile -

Love you all. Wherever you are, I hope my hugs reaches you. -hugs- 


	23. The Torment and Betrayal of Others

**Title**: In Hell With Love

**Rating**: T

**Disclaimer**: I do not own CSI or its characters. I'm just a fan.

**Author's notes**: To everyone who waited for me to update this story, you have no idea how grateful I am. I know it has been more than a year, but I've never forgotten about you all.

**P.S** I know I'm a slow writer and my stories may take a long time to get somewhere (too much emotions, draggy storyline etc.). I must apologise. I really like focusing on emotions and feelings – one of the beautiful traits that we have as humans. I don't like to rush stories so please don't tear me up with this chapter.

To **whashaza** (I'm sorry for not making your hope a reality, hopefully this chapter will make up for it. Here's another hug for you –hugs-), **vans65** (I know I said that this chapter would be out sooner, but something got in the way. I wrote this chapter longer than normal just for you. I'm really sorry I kept you waiting with the lack of updates. I'm quite honoured with what you did actually – so don't feel bad okay – hugs and grins-) **apcJodi** (I hope you haven't forgotten this story. I've always looked forward to your encouraging and thoughtful reviews.) **xoSnickersxo** (miss you loads. I apologise for the slow updates) **34bubbles** (It makes me happy when someone new reviews my story. I hope you'll get to read this chapter) **Mma63** (Thank you for your review. It's really hard to update sometimes and it's wonderful to have someone understand what I'm going thru. Hope you're not too disappointed with this chapter) **eanalay** (Thanks for reviewing –hugs-) **chloeeleanor** (Love your name. I glad you're enjoying the story so far. Hope you'll like this one) **bene** (I'll did my best to involve Catherine a little more in this chapter. Just for you –grins-) **jdcocoagirl** (Nick seemed like the best person to understand Sara, since he had been through so much. Thanks for your review dear –hugs-) **CSIvHP11** (Oh no. Hope you'll still review this chapter. Sara will get better. I'll make sure that happens.) **msbetty** (thanks for that review. It made me happy –hugs-) **thealycat** (I'm glad you liked it. I love to focus on emotions whenever I write a story. One of my weaknesses. Hope you'll like this chapter too.) **CookiesAreAlwaysFood** (I agree with your name wholeheartedly. I'll try my best to finish this story asap. I don't like to rush things – another one of my weaknesses- so sorry)

To** necira-skies** (One of the reasons why I posted this story today is because of your review. I thought that everyone had forgotten about this fic. When I read your review, I felt inspired to write. I've spend quite a bit of time on this one. I really hope you like it. Everyone here should thank you for the continuation of this story –grins and hugs-)

To the **everyone reading this chapter** (Thank you)

Here goes...

* * *

**Chapter 23**

There was a knock on the door…

"What is the meaning of this? Did you not hear what I said?" The voice that came through the door had an intensity derived from a rage capable of destroying anything in sight. Tables, chairs and stacks of papers would have been thrown onto the ground if not for the confused acknowledgement of a face that looked up from the desk.

"Might I remind you who's in charge here? I've told you from the very beginning that your team is to undergo a psychiatric evaluation before handling the case – this case! Did you not hear me? Is your hearing as bad as I imagined?"

Grissom stared at Ecklie from behind his desk. Eyes burning and nose flaring, Ecklie looked like a man whose head was one notch away from exploding. His bald spot allowed Grissom an unprotected view of his enormous vein that pulsed like a separate entity.

He greeted him with normalcy, regretting almost immediately as he realised his tone may be mistaken as a way of pissing his superior off. Ecklie wasn't in the mood; his demanding stance prompted an explanation.

"A psych evaluation is useless if it's not what my team needs. What they need right now is closure. When Sara went missing, most of their time was used contemplating what went wrong – _how could this happen, why did it happen_—and now that she's found, their thinking still remains the same. It would haunt them till they find the person responsible. They would rather risk insanity, knowing that they're protecting someone they love, than to use up whatever precious time they have talking about themselves and how they feel. You can at least give them that. Don't take this away from them… Let them deal with it this way… it's the right thing to do. Even you know that…" As Grissom spoke, Ecklie's shoulders tensed, knowing that there was an undeniable truth behind what he was saying. He dropped his shoulders and relaxed his back as much as he could, trying, in vain, to appear unfazed by Grissom's words. He pointed his index finger at Grissom, hiding his conscience behind his gesture.

"It is not your call to make. I will not allow your team's personal attachment to the victim to compromise this case – or this lab's reputation. You will get your team evaluated. I do not care if it takes days or weeks – you will not touch this case until you do. Do I make myself clear?" With each sentence that was said, Ecklie increased his tone and added a pause for emphasis. His finger jerked forward repeatedly as he spoke, as if challenging Grissom. "The psych division will handle it from here. I suggest you pack it up and say your good-byes to the victim…"

Grissom stood up, not hiding his anger well. "This 'victim' that you are referring to… don't act like you don't know her."

"But I don't, Grissom… I don't know her. " Ecklie turned towards the door, pointing to the stack of evidence files on his desk on his way out. "It seems… neither do you. Not anymore."

* * *

There was a knock on the door…

Nick stood up and held his stance, praying with all his might that the person behind the door wasn't from the psychiatric division. He felt like a giant next to Sara who remained seated on the ground. Confidence began to build within him, knowing that he was probably capable of protecting her this time. His back was tight and straight and he clenched his fists. He was going to make sure that there was no chance of her being taken by anyone without going through him first. He leaned closer to the door, without moving his feet from their spot, hoping that Sara was watching him.

She wasn't. And he couldn't comprehend why that saddened him greatly.

"Who's there?" He said, hoping that this time, she would hear him. Sara responded by shifting her legs closer to her body.

"Mr. Stokes. Could you step out for a moment? A member of the psych division is here to see you." The voice behind the door belonged to a woman. Only then did it occur to Nick that there was more than one person along the corridor. The shadowed figure was still by the window.

"What do you want?" He asked, his heart sinking as low as it could go. He knew the answer to that question, and the feeling that he had overstayed his time with Sara crept back into his soul. With his confidence heading out of the door, a sense of urgency filled his gut as he wondered if he should have drilled Sara for an answer; to force something out of her that would call for his presence or that would require his skills as a CSI. He had been so caught up with the feeling of exultation at the thought that he, though alone and useless, singlehandedly got Sara to trust him, that he had forgotten his purpose for being there. A sense of pain connected with the future remained in the room and he knew that being with Sara was the only way he could keep himself from lapsing into the guilt and loneliness that haunted him for such a long time. He felt the unnecessary need to stall, knowing that he wasn't needed anymore, that he was more a hindrance rather than a help.

The voices behind the door began conversing among themselves and for a moment Nick had hoped that they have forgotten about them. As he waited, he took a step towards the window, curious of the identity of the shadowed figure, wondering why his presence had made his dear friend so terrified. He craned his neck at an angle where the reflections were least prominent, but the figure moved towards the door, its face just out of his range of sight.

Suddenly, his phone rang.

Nick jumped and instinctively turned towards Sara to see if the high-pitched noise had scared her. Sara's shoulders jerked in shock and the beats of the heart monitor didn't do much to hide her fear from him, and as she dragged herself back into her lonely corner Nick cursed himself for not silencing his phone when he had the chance to. Its vibrations merged with the tingling sensation crawling up his spine as he fumbled for the device, its cries hovering murkily around his ears. He wanted nothing more than to throw his phone against the wall and hold Sara's hands just like before, wanting her to stay the way she was just minutes ago. But fearing an important call or that the caller would not call back had left him standing where he was, prompting him to answer the phone.

"Stokes..."

"_Mr. Stokes.._." Nick frowned as the voice continued. "_It's great to finally talk to you..._"

"Who are you?"

"_I think you know who I am..." _The voice replied. "..._haven't you been expecting me?_"

"You're..."

"_Yes, yes. I'm Sara's dreaded PEAP counsellor." _He mocked and laughed before continuing._ "Don't act so surprise. I'm here to inquire about my patient. Has she said anything to you?"_

"We're still unsure of whose responsible if that's what you—"

"_Right_..." He interrupted, dragging the word; the tension in his voice melting away. _"The psych division is taking over from here. I would appreciate if you leave. Your presence here is no longer needed_."

As Nick tried in vain to put a face to the voice on the line, he was surprised at the lack of compassion and gratitude that he had in mind for a person of that profession. He had hoped for an understanding voice; one that he could plead his worth to this case, knowing that he may be expecting too much.

"Wait— don't you want to know how she's doing?"

"_Mr. Stokes, I do not go to your crime scene telling you that you have missed a spot, so don't tell me how to do my job."_

"But I- I can help. S-she knows that I'm here to help her. She knows me."

"_And that means something to me.... how?" _

"Just give me a little more time. She'll talk to me about what happened."

"_You can't just force something out of a person who has undergone the trauma that my patient has gone through. The ability to repress is an important survival tool. She would be dead without it."_

"But she responded to me. She held my hand and looked at me..."

"_You grabbed her hand and she was complied to look at you..." _

"She tried to communicate with me by squeezing my hands..."

"_Reflex..."_

"She knows me. She did all those things because she knows me! She knows it's me!" Nick vehemently replied in a tight whisper, so that Sara wouldn't hear. He turned away from her towards the window facing the city, and found that he could not stand the sight of it despite of how beautiful it was. The sky was fading to grey, and he could not understand how the day could pass the time over to night so quickly. He hated the day for leaving, knowing that like the sun leaving the blue sky, he too would have to leave the room.

"_Yes... well, I'm sure she knows you... but might I remind you who gave you that deep scratch in the middle of your face..." _

"That wasn't her fault. She only did..." Nick argued, speaking over the voice.

"_...which, by the way, you should get that checked out... a blow to the head may cloud judgement... She is considered..." _

"...that because she thought she was in danger. She was..."

"_...a danger to herself and others. By law, any signs of suicidal and homicidal tendency would mean that she'll have to be committed to the care of the psychiatric division..."_

"... scared. I didn't mean to scare her like that..."

"_Mr. Stokes!"_ An angry sigh emerged after both of them stopped talking._ "You're testing my patience. I have been kind to you and your colleagues, giving you several hours alone with my patient. My patient! Do you know your kind is not even allowed here? You and your team have not undergone a psych evaluation, and even that does not confirm that you are fit to be part of this investigation. I can take you out anytime I want, and I'm doing it now. She is my patient and mine alone. You have been taken off this case as of today. I have already informed Conrad Ecklie, and as we speak, he is alerting the rest of your team..."_

A warm wave of adrenaline spewed into Nick's body at the thought of his friends packing up the evidence and allowing people he did not know to take them away. He was certain that they would put up a fight, but they were in a bind just like he was. They could not disobey or defy authority, knowing that they had the power to take Sara from them indefinitely, as well as blaming them for making things worse when it was time to apprehend a suspect. He was torn. He promised that he would make Sara's tormentor pay for what he did to her. And everyone else had made that promise too. They have to be careful not to break it. _Nothing's worse than broken promises_. He could hear nothing else as the phrase went through his head like a mantra. Even as the voice rambled over the phone, the only thoughts that flowed mercilessly into his mind were thoughts of betraying Sara again. They ended with a painful grip of fear of losing her; his conscience playing a part in reminding him that he'll be fully responsible for that if he didn't do what he was told. The best thing he could do now was to try his best to salvage the situation, taking what he can.

"... I told her I would stay..." He blurted out

The voice stopped in midsentence and paused before replying. "_We shouldn't make promises we can't keep Mr. Stokes. You know that. You are no stranger to false hopes."_

"...You don't know me."

"_I beg to differ. I've done my research... I know you well enough. Shall I give it a go? _

The voice made him nervous and uncertainty clenched tightly around his chest. Nick turned back to look at Sara and did not know if he should sit close to her with her PEAP counsellor over the phone. Her body was leaning heavily against the wall, her blistered toes curled on the floor, and she was staring blankly at the white wall. He noticed that the more he talked, the wearier and lonelier she became. He moved as if he made his decision, but at the last moment changed his mind, knowing that at the end of the day, no matter what he did, he was going to betray her. His throat hurt as he swallowed. For a while he looked at her; then he no longer knew where to look.

"... You don't know me."

"_I know all about you Mr. Stokes... you always seem to need to have some reason to hate yourself, something to make you feel eternally incomplete. You try to be the nicest person around, trying to smile all the time, going out of your way to do something for someone. You act that way, thinking that if you offered everything you had to the world—all the care and love and help— that someday you'll be given the same things. That someday, everyone will see what you have done and like you. They'll all like you and you'll finally be somebody. It's a reason to get up in the morning. It's a reason to do your job. You tell yourself that, even though it hurts so badly, you're going to do the best you can. You smile, making people think that you're happy. You laugh so they will not see you cry. You live your life knowing that it kills you. But you keep going. You know that this world is not like you, that you'll never get what you want, but you still believe in hope. And the pain of never finding it is.... unbearable." _

"Anything else?"

"_My patient is providing you with this hope, isn't she? Before she was taken, she was just like you. She acted the same way and wished for the same things. She gave you what you wanted and you gave her what she wanted. She cared, loved and helped you and you cared, loved and helped her. Now, after she was taken, you tried to give her all these things again and found out that she was incapable of giving them back to you. Not that she wouldn't, but couldn't. You are alone now and there's no one left, and it makes you want to die inside. You can only forget about your problems when you're being useful to someone. You feel that if you stayed that you could change things; that you can restore her back to what she was before. You think that, by doing this, you can to save her but you're looking for a way to save yourself. You do not want to be alone, do you Mr. Stokes? You're making excuses to substitute the real problem..."_

He felt himself trembling with old nervousness. He never thought he was doing anything selfish until this moment. He thought that all he wanted to do was to help her become the person he had known again, and leaving the room would mean accepting that she would never again be the friend he remembered. _—That's justifiable, right? It's not selfish...or is it? —_ He wanted nothing more than the voice to stop talking. He wanted the eyes of the shadowed figure that he imagined looming about him to go blind.

"..._...You tell me that you want to protect her, but in reality, you just don't want be away from her..."_

"Anything else?" Nick replied with sadness and tears in his eyes.

"_Leave this room and get yourself evaluated. There's nothing more you can do here."_

An albatross began to form around his neck. He felt all hope seeping away and decided to make one final grasp at it. "Is there— tell me if there is any way I could stay. She's my dearest friend and I can't break anymore promises to her...because she doesn't have anyone..."

"_A man who can't even control his emotions like that can't possibly save a person whom he cares about. She'll have me, Mr. Stokes. And I'll make sure she's well taken care of... Say your good-byes, we're done here."_

The line went dead, and Nick noticed that the shadowed figure was no longer by the window.

* * *

There was a knock on the door…

The first thing Grissom noticed as he walked through the door was a thick forensic book lying on the ground. Its spine was horribly broken; its wings left pages leading to its final destination, looking like a dead boxed bird. Not too far away, a chair was positioned on its side. Its backrest dislocated and its seat distorted due to the brute force that hurled it to the corner. Warrick stood facing the board, his back towards Grissom. His shoulders rose and fell as his breathed.

"I presumed Ecklie has already told you..."

Warrick ignored him, staring at the Sara's pictures as Grissom walked towards him. The papers on the desk detailing Sara's case were left unharmed, and the board, which happened to be the largest target in the room managed to escape Warrick's wrath. It stood on its wheels as if trembling; the only thing preventing it from being thrown to the ground was the fact that Warrick could not bear to hurt anything that reminded him of his long lost friend.

"Where's everyone?"

He shrugged, as if not caring. Warrick rubbed his eyes with one hand and resumed staring at the pictures. Grissom sighed, and didn't know if he should leave his friend alone with evidences that will eventually drive him to madness. He placed his hand on his shoulder. Warrick, as if by reflex, shrugged it off.

"You're directing your anger at the wrong person. I'm not the enemy here." Grissom said calmly. "Remember that I'm on your side."

A painful constriction emerged right behind his face, above the roof of his mouth. Before he could apologise, Grissom walked up towards the board, standing right beside him, staring at the pictures. "I've spoke to the head of psychiatric division. They are going to allow us visitation rights. It's in the works right now. They have her on a 72-hour hold. We should be able to see her in a couple of days."

"...A couple of days is a long time..."

"I know... but that's the best I could do."

"What happens if we force our way through to get to her?"

Grissom thought for a moment, "We could be charged with trespassing, maybe even arrested, and our visitation rights will be removed until further notice."

"It's like they're keeping her away from us."

"It would seem that way."

"...But I don't want to be away from her."

As Warrick spoke, Grissom could tell that he was getting more depressed than angry. The mental strain of losing this case was taking its toll on the younger CSI. The team has noticed his emotional deterioration whenever he left the house in the middle of the desert. He had been in that house longer than anyone else, thinking that he could find a common bond to Sara by being exposed to the same atmosphere that housed her existence all these years. It wasn't easy. His eyes played tricks on him. Every grime and smudge made him sick. Random sounds and silences left him on edge, which during a moment of weakness, led him to draw his gun at an officer who wandered into the room. Every time he went in, he could smell the poisonous air, see Sara's blood, touch the choking walls, hear the whispers and echoes and taste the rancid bile in his throat. There was nothing that could stop his thoughts and imaginations as he investigated that room.

For every waking moment he was in there, he couldn't help but imagined the many horrors that were inflicted upon Sara. He imagined her begging for her life and death. He imagined her crying out to him, to the team to come and save her. He imagined her awake while they slept, starving as they ate, parched as they drank, alone while they got together and restrained as they roamed free. There was a time when he thought that he would be happy once he found something that would help. But every gravitational drop of blood he found suggested where Sara was placed, how she was hit, what was done to her. Every physical evidence he found gave him a glimpse of the kind of monster she had to live with all these years. Evidences that he assumed he would find drove him into a frenzy, desperately seeking nothing. The longer he stayed, the more enraged he got. The more he investigated, the sadder he became for Sara. At the end of every day he resents himself a little more. Whenever he got out of the house, his only thought was to burn it down; to destroy it with his bare hands, and imagining himself going to the hospital, presenting his broken hands to Sara as a tribute to her, hoping that she would be proud of what he has done. But now he has nothing. As the case was being in the process of being taken away from him, he felt his spirit going along with it.

"I didn't want to be away from her either." Catherine said as if appearing out of nowhere. She was leaning against the door frame as she spoke, and the men could tell that she had been crying. But taking a cue from her attempt to be supportive, they decided not to ask or comment on her appearance.

"When did you get back?" Grissom asked.

"Not long." She shook her head slightly, looking to the ground. "I was told to leave the premises immediately. I wasn't even allowed to enter her room to say good bye. Believe me... I've tried. Apparently, Sara's floor is off-limits to visitors... an order issued by her PEAP counsellor."

"What about Nick?"

"He's still with her. But he's going to have to leave before the end of today."

Grissom and Catherine conversed a little more, asking questions that served merely to fill the silence.

"Is Sara—how is she?" Warrick interrupted, feeling ambivalent, not knowing if he should be asking a question like that.

Catherine looked at him with sympathy, knowing that Warrick hadn't seen Sara since she was rescued. In his mind, she was still wearing her time-eaten clothes, covered in blood and grime. His refusal to enter her hospital room until he had something was the biggest mistake he had ever made; taking for granted of the amount of time he had to see her. He took it upon himself to be the person who stayed in the lab, going over evidences that would eventually lead them to her tormentor. If he had known he would lose her this way, he would have stayed by her side, like a big brother. He constantly wonders if she was hurt by the way he avoided her, whether she felt rejected because he never came to see her since she woke. He thinks back to the day she was rescued, already a fickle, a distant memory; of how she was ready to be taken to the hospital, and he didn't go with her, choosing instead to stay behind to investigate that damned house. As Catherine filled him in with what she knew, doing her best not to leave anything out, Warrick listened as if he was living within her description. His features soften and the corner of his lips moved as if to form a smile but didn't quite make it. As Catherine told him about her current situation, he looked towards the board at a picture of Sara and gently held the board's metallic frame, imagining holding her hand, letting go only when the longing for her became too great.

Before she could finish, a commotion was heard down the hall. The orderlies from the psychiatric division have arrived to take the case away...

* * *

There was a knock on the door…

Nick looked out the window and opened the door for the nurse coming in for her routine checks. She walked by him as if he wasn't here, beginning by reviewing the charts at the end of the bed and then proceeding to inspect the clear fluid inside Sara's IV tubing. She wrote her observations and signed the charts, looking at Sara briefly with pity before finally acknowledging Nick's presence on her way out. At first, she gave him a look as though he was impeding her from making a clean getaway, but softened her grazed after he asked if there was anything wrong. She replied as she headed out the door and reminded him that she'll be waiting outside to escort him out of the ward once he's well and ready. The door opened and closed in a smooth motion and with the nurse gone, the two of them were alone again. Nick stared at the door, knowing that within minutes she would come back again and ask him to leave regardless of whether he's done with his good-byes.

In the room's stillness, he looked at the window and took a glimpse at its reflection, not recognising himself. His face was pinched and unshaven, and he had dark circles under his eyes. He wonders if that was the reason why Sara flinches whenever he got close to her. He reasoned with himself that, since she could not see him clearly, due to the ocular damage she sustained from being repeatedly beaten as well as being kept in the dark for so long, there was no need for vanity. But as he turned away, he wished that he had cleaned up for her, or at least present her with a face worth remembering.

He whispered her name as he crouched down beside her. Sara's eyes were closed at the time, and when she opened them, he noticed that the whites of her eyes were still red, camouflaged by the bruises on her face. She flinched as expected and he quickly reached out to wrap his hands loosely around her wrists, tracing the curves of her fingers.

"It's okay. It's just me."

They said nothing for a while, drawn together in wordless mediation, as the sounds around the room re-entered their consciousness, and established themselves there, bringing the grim situation to life.

"Sara..." He said, finally. "I know...you don't want to... or rather... can't talk about what happened, so I'm not going to use this time to ask you anything about it. But I need you to know... that what I'm about to do isn't your fault; that you mustn't blame yourself for what's about to happen next. I need you to trust me. I need you to be strong now. And when there are things on this earth that makes you want to cry and you are afraid of dark, don't forget that I'll always be there. I'll always be there for you Sara..."

Nick felt something rising in his throat, and felt himself wanting to cry. He leaned forward to get close to her, hoping in his heart that she would hug him. To tell him that it's okay to say what he was about to say, that she understands why he has to leave. He hoped for her arms to wrap around his neck, her skinny hands on his back, feeling her cheek against the side of his face. But when nothing happened and the silence seemed interminable, he tightened his hold of her, fearful of what was to come but every instinct reaching out to protect and comfort her.

"But right now, something has come up and I have to be somewhere. I have to be somewhere else, and I can't take you with me... I would if I could...Believe me; I did all I could to stay here with you." His voice began to quiver and decided to rush what he needed to say. "I'll come back, Sara. I'll come back for you. Just wait for me, alright? Just wait for me..."

He hated the way he sounded. His words felt like a person picking on a broken vase, not knowing when to stop touching the pieces, before finally causing it to crumble. As he spoke, Sara's mind guessed where he was headed before he even got there. Her eyes filled with tears again, despite her trying so hard to stop them. She couldn't tell if it was because she was sad he was leaving—or terrified. Part of her wanted to pretend that he didn't say anything. Another part of her wanted him to say something else. She thought about all the things that were said to her earlier, realising that some of it wasn't going to come true. That things weren't going to turn out the way she had hoped. She held her breath as her tears flowed quietly down her face. A fresh wave of anger filled her body, causing her ribs to hurt as she took gulping breaths of air. A sudden bout of pain struck her at the back of her head.

It felt to Sara like she was suddenly dropped into an ocean of pain, hurt and anguish. Even though her eyes were closed shut, her tears continued to flow and she bit down on her lips to prevent her sobs from turning into wails; horrible sounds that would clearly express what she was feeling. Everything she felt was blinding, utterly blinding that she couldn't see beyond it. Her chest tightened suddenly and her breathing came in short, sharp breaths. She tried to pull her hands away from Nick to get the tube out of her nose, but failed as she still hadn't gotten used to the splint on her left arm. The wires and tubes were getting tangled in between them, restraining her as they tugged at her skin. Nick called out her name over and over— not too loud— worried that the nurse would come in, syringes in her hands, blaming him for her distress. His arms felt heavy and somehow strangely distant, as he tried to stop Sara from hurting herself. Her pain, hurt and anguish were laid out before him, and they tore into his own heart.

In her last ditch effort to breathe normally, Sara reached behind her ear, held on to the tubing for her nasal cannula and pulled, successfully bringing it out of her nose. She took her hand away from her face and cleared her throat deeply. She coughed and then grimaced at the pain that shot through her abdomen. She brought her hand to her chest and touched the sides of the electrodes monitoring her heart before peeling back their adhesive hold on her. The rhythmic patterns of her life disappeared across the small screen as each electrode screeched vulgarly at being removed. Now, the only foreign object protruding out of her body was the IV needle on the back of her hand, held down by a surgical tape that had been wound so many times that half of her palm was covered. It would be extremely difficult for her to remove it on her own. Nick felt somewhat responsible for that. If only he had allowed her to get accustom to being rescued; if only he knew when to keep himself away from her...

Nick tried in vain to still the situation. He felt complied to say things that would justify his actions; desperately saying words that he thought would comfort her, but in reality meant nothing. His heart seemed to him to be beating in his chest so loudly that he was sure Sara would be too distracted to listen to his well-worn, meaningless words of consolation.

As her fingers inched towards the needle on the back of her hand, he made a grab for them. "Don't... Please don't do that." _Don't hurt yourself because of me..._he thought, thinking that she would run away from him the moment she was free from all the tubes and wires. Flashbacks from what happened earlier were still fresh on his mind, causing the scratch on his face to pulse. It was only when she looked back at him did he realised that her response was not to get away but a desperate final attempt to be with him; to stay with the person who promised to keep her safe; to stay with the only person who promised to protect her. Without her wires and tubes, she thought that it would be easier for him to take her away from this place, and knowing that he would never be able to meet up with that expectation made the both of them cry.

The door creaked opened and Nick began to feel tense, fearing that there wouldn't be enough time to complete what he needed to say. The desire to comfort her eclipsed his own sadness. He let go of both her hands and put his arm around her, pulling her against him. She grabbed the sleeves of his shirt and he was so afraid that she would struggle to get him off her. He held her tight as he felt her shaking with grief and terror, but the fact that she didn't pull away; that she wasn't repulsed by his comfort, made his heart melt.

He took and deep breath and whispered into her ear. "I can't leave this room with you thinking that I have abandoned you. I wanted to be with you much longer. I wanted to stay with you... and care for you... and make tomorrow all right for you. There were so many things that I wanted to hear you say... and there were so many things I wanted to tell you..." He tried his best to collect himself. "Please understand that I did all I could to stay here with you. I'll come back for you Sara... I'll come back to get you... Please remember that I never wanted to be away from you."

He felt the nurse – after having repeatedly called his name – seized him by the arm, prompting him to stand. He frowned and kept his eyes upon her for some time, and then with tears that came from his sad heart, Nick slowly let Sara go. He stood up and looked over her as the nurse spoke. Though he could not hear what she was saying, he knew better than to touch Sara again.

His copious tears rolled onto the path of his bandaid and began to soak into it. He baulked for a moment and then took a step forward to follow the nurse.

_Please remember that I never wanted to be away from you..._

Sara's lower lip quivered as she reached out and grabbed the leg of his pants with her good hand. She wept and held him, clenching her fist around the fabric. Nick listened as last bit of hope drained from her. He bowed his head and closed his eyes. His throat seared, trying to keep his emotions in.

"I'm sorry, Sara. I'm so sorry."

Nick heard a broken sob, and felt the grip on his pants weakened as she let him go.

He was escorted out of the room into the lonely corridor. There, he was lead down the hallway, past the empty nurse's station and into the elevator. The nurse beside him punched a button, causing the machine to emanate a decisive bing. Nick, in his sadness, took one last look at Sara's room. As doors began to close, he noticed the shadow figure emerging from behind the station, heading towards her room, and letting himself in...

* * *

There was a knock on the door...

"Grissom? Gil Grissom?" Someone asked. There were three of them standing by the doorway, looking extremely out of place, wearing a white outfit resembling a short-sleeved spacesuit which, from a distance, made them look like siblings. The voice came from the one holding the chart that was hooked onto his belt. He was the smallest out of all of them and seemed to be the leader. He had on a pair of tinted shades, despite the lab being as grim as death. The two orderlies by his side could not be bothered to tell him how ridiculous he looked and were impatiently waiting for their orders. Grissom frowned before acknowledging. While therapists and counsellors are well respected in the department, it was the orderlies that are known for their bad behaviours and attitudes; acting like they own the place, as if their uniforms made them deities and somewhat untouchable.

"Uh-huh. I'm here to collect a case from you..." He said with an air of arrogance as he looked at his chart. "Case number ten-thirty eight-forty six..."

"Could this wait a minute?" Grissom replied. "You caught us at a bad time..."

"No. We're off our shift in five..."

"He asked if you could wait a minute!"

All eyes turned towards Warrick, who said those words with his teeth set together. His eyes were still looking at Catherine, as if waiting for her to carry on talking about Sara.

"What—" The shorter man retorted.

"Give us a minute. Till then, don't you dare take those pictures out of this room!"

"Warrick..." Catherine said, surprised at his outburst. "What has gotten into you?"

He did not reply. Instead, he walked towards the board and stood by it.

The orderly wasn't about to get provoked into submission. He scratched his hairy arms, pointing the corner of the chart to Warrick. "We have direct orders from the psych division to take this case!"

"I asked if it could wait." He clenched his fist and took a step towards him. "Why can't you just wait?" He cried fiercely. "Why can't you just wait a minute?"

"Warrick!" Grissom exclaimed, getting in between them. "That's enough."

"A minute was all we asked. That's all the time we need to pack her things into this box over there. That's all the time we'll get..." Warrick moved closer to where Catherine and Grissom stood, the bags beneath his eyes were wet. He spoke with more his breath than his voice "I just need minute... I worry that... if I do not have this one last minute with her things I might forget her completely". There was a heaviness in his friend's tone that made them reluctant to put him off.

"Hey. Hey. Show us some respect over there. This case is ours. That means all your evidences, your killer and your victim belong to us..." The orderly wriggled his fingers towards the tiny box bearing Sara's name, while the others laughed and made remarks about a grown man being close to tears. "I don't even know why you guys are so attached to these things. These boxes...We have a million of those, stacked one on top of the others in storage. If it makes you feel better, we'll not stick this one at the bottom of the pile. Consider that a favour..." He turned and just as he was about to 'high-five' one of the orderlies, he was suddenly jerked forward as a hand grabbed him by the collar and pulled him away.

"What did you say?" Warrick shouted at him, dragging towards the table as if he weighted nothing at all.

The orderly struggled to try to free himself. "Let go of me—"

"What's her name?"

"–Excuse me—?"

"Her name! This victim that belongs to you! What is her name?" Warrick yelled as he grabbed Sara's picture and shoved it into the shorter man's face. The others merely watched, paralysed by indecisions.

"How should I know? I'm only following orders—!"

"That's the problem..." Warrick cut him off, as he pulled him across the room. The orderly was stunned; all he could do was stare up at Warrick's angry face. He lifted his arms in surrender, as a gesture of placation. But Warrick grabbed onto him tighter, hauling him roughly, his gut was hanging out from under his shirt.

"You see this! Your victim wrote this about your killer! Are you seeing this? '_No-man-sinned'._ Tell me what this means! If this case is yours, then tell me what this means!" The side of the orderly's face slammed against the board, jarring his senses. His tinted shades lay crooked across his face, revealing his fearful eyes. Warrick stared into them from a moment before his eyes caught sight of the shade's reflection.

Catherine came up behind him and laid a hand on his tense shoulders "Warrick, please let him go."

The man was pleading for his life, swearing that he was out of line as Warrick held him. His eyes were fixated as if fuelled by the devil's trance. After a moment, tears began flowing out from his eyes. "I think I know what Sara's trying to tell us..."

He grabbed the shades before discarding the shaken orderly back to his friends. And while Grissom reasoned with them not to report what happened, he showed Catherine what he saw.

"D-e-n-n-i-s N-a-m-o-n. Dennis Manon?"

"Sara's PEAP counsellor." Warrick and Catherine turned as one to find Greg entering the room. "He's one of the counsellors that Ecklie assigned to talk to us. Have you spoken with him yet?"

Warrick ignored his question and told him everything he knew up to this point and what he assumed Sara was trying to tell the team with her cryptic message. As he listened, Greg tried to disguise his worry as best as he could, but whenever Sara's PEAP counsellor's name came up, his face etched with dread and he would steal a glance towards her picture.

"Are you alright?"

When he opened his mouth to speak, Greg's voice trembled. "You don't understand... I just talked to him a few hours ago!"

"What did he want? What did you say?" asked Catherine, grabbing his arm.

"He wanted to know....he-- he asked me... about Sara and the case..."

"What did you tell him?"

"He wanted to know if she said anything... our progress... what we're going to do next... he told me it was normal in cases like this... to get information from the inside. I didn't mean it... I didn't know."

"Greg!"

Warrick shook the shoulders of the younger CSI, rattling him out of thought. Greg stared back at him, as if awoken from a dream. His eyes opened wide and his mouth agape, as he looked back at the face of guilt that would forever plague his memory.

"Greg... What did you tell him?"

Greg swayed slightly in his spot, as if the earth was shaking beneath him. He looked away from the team to the board where Sara's pictures hung. And at that moment, he understood, that those conversations had not been real; that he had been talking to himself all this while, that all he said to the 'supposed' expert were like meaningless sounds. He felt like someone who was babbling about a nightmare he had over breakfast to a listener who was bored by the details of something he helped create. He looked at Sara's picture. The tears in his eyes made her wounds seemed bigger, redder. Her blood appeared to trickle down the sides of her skin onto his hands that held the imaginary knife that stabbed her in the back.

"I told him everything... I told him everything he wanted to know."

"Get Nick on the phone this minute." Warrick barked, even if it was him who picked up the phone. He dialled his number and cursed when his finger slipped and he got it wrong. "Come on Nick. Pick up."

He cursed again. "I can't get in touch with him. I keep getting his voice mail."

"Keep trying. Maybe his phone is unable to receive a signal." Catherine said, before reaching for her own. "I'm going call the hospital. I'm going to try to call Sara's room directly. I hope he's still there." She covered her eyes as a deep sense of dread flooded through her. As she paced about the room, she began to feel such pure hatred that she had nothing more than rancour in her heart. She remembered Sara introducing her to him once, and on another occasion, greeting him along the corridor. She recalled Sara speaking highly of him; helping her with her problems and dealing with her anger. She swore she was getting better with his help. His help! His poisonous help that he fed to her day by day like poison, not knowing that Sara was dying the second she was introduced to him.

Her thoughts disappear as the line went through and she was met with a moment of silence.

"Nick!" She cried. "Are you still there?"

There was nothing. She strained to hear for any sign of life. She increased the volume of her phone, before picking up on the faint sound of someone crying.

"Sara? Sara honey... is that you? It's Catherine. I need to know if you can hear me. Please... please tell me that you're alright."

In the room, nobody moved. Even Warrick stopped dialling; the droning of the dial tone off the hook, muffled only slightly by his hands. Catherine looked about the room, her eyes stinging, as she tearfully called out to Sara again.

A beep was heard over the phone, and she never knew a simple sound like that could bring her that much joy.

"Oh thank God. Sara! We... we know what you were trying to say. We know who did this to you... But you have to get out of there. You have to get out of that room now. Find somewhere safe to go. Find Nick if you can. Don't allow them to take you—" Catherine stopped as she heard the sound of a door and felt elated at the possibility of Sara escaping her tormentor. She imagined Nick nearby, and had a scenario in her head of both of them finding each other. He'll be able to protect her while they made their way to the hospital. The case will be theirs again and they'll be able to finally prosecute the bastard.

She smiled as the rest of the team watched, relieved. But just as she was about the hang up the phone, she heard shuffling and the sounds of another door opening, before slamming shut almost immediately. Catherine tightened her hold on her phone, not knowing the extent of her actions. She stood there, the dead silence consuming her, as the disconnect tones emerged; a noise only achieved if there's a soul still in the room.

_Beep, beep, beep...

* * *

_

There was a knock on the door...

_Sara... Sara..._

She leaned against the door in darkness, as the dazzling flashbacks of her memories flickered before her eyes. She had made sure it was locked, but felt complied to use whatever weight she had left to keep it closed. Her back burned like raw muscles on splinters, as she pushed herself against its wooden surface. She would have hid in the furthest corner of the bathroom floor, but could not move beyond her spot. The stubbornness of her medical IV pole had led to her confinement, choosing to stay outside the bathroom as she got in. Its only proof of its existence to her was a tube slithering from under the door like a tentacle, spitting its essence into her veins.

_Did you just tell them it was me?_

When the phone rang earlier, she tried to shut it up by pushing a button, only to hear a voice calling out to her on its speakers. The voice made her heart jump in a good way, causing the sides of her lips to twitch into a failed smile. She tried to call out but discovered that she couldn't utter a sound due to the tears in her throat. She reached out and pushed another button to encourage the voice to stay, but prayed for it to go just as he entered her room. She could not see him, but she recognised his silhouette by the doorway. Flashes of her painful past merged with the present almost imperceptibly, interfering with her reality. She forced herself up and retreated into the bathroom, abandoning her IV pole as it fell over and slamming the door shut behind her. She heard his footsteps coming towards the door, and hanging up the phone—her one and only lifeline to her friends.

_They'll never believe you...no one ever believes a violent mental patient..._

As he knocked on her door again, Sara tried to think of home and realised that she could not remember where she lived. She buried her face in her hands and prayed for the good memories to return. Try as she might, they did not arrive. Instead, it was the memory of the dark corner of her prison that provide that little comfort she needed; the place where she slept after hours of abuse, the place where he never brought her when she was alone with him.

_Do you know what it's like where you're going?_

She felt him tugging against the IV tubing, before yanking it at its fullest length. The surgical tape refused to let go, as if she was being punished for successfully removing it the first time. She was so afraid that she would be pulled out for under the tiny gap that, without thinking, she fought to keep her hand away from the door. She felt the needle moving in her hand, waving like a conductor's wand, dancing in its own torturous melody. It stirred her tissues and veins together till she cried out, blood soaking the surgical tape red. Still, it held onto her like an obedient minion as its master spoke from behind the door.

_You know what I'll do?_

_I'll put you in a locked ward and say it's for you own protection, to keep you separated from the other patients._

_If you misbehave, I'll tie you down with restraints._

_If you argue with anyone about it, I'll medicate you, which will make you sleep too much. And then I'll say that you're depressed and give you more drugs... Just like what I used to do to you when we're alone..._

She felt one last tug before the tension of the tube slackened. She cradled her damage hand into her arms, not knowing what to do next. Outside, he paced outside her door and gave it a kick, with every intention to hurt her, rattling every bone she had.

_The best part is there nothing anyone can do about it..._

As her thin little body juddered with both pain and fear, Sara heard him make a call to the Nevadan state, reporting of a runaway 10-96 before leaving the room. She froze in horror. Code 10-96 refers to mental subjects and act of her alleged evasion would only give the state reason to incarcerate her into the care of her primary counsellor, which is...

Terrified, she got down on her hands and knees and peered under the door. Seeing and sensing no one, she uttered a prayer before opening the bathroom door...

* * *

-----------------------

Nick was on his way back to the lab when his phone rang. The caller display told him it was Warrick. Nick waited for a few seconds before picking up, and within that stretch of time he knew that something was wrong. Even before he heard Warrick's first broken words, he knew that it was too late. He drove back to the hospital as if impelled by a magical force, pushing his way pass bewildered nurses and orderlies when he finally got here. He got into the elevator and headed straight for Sara's door, only to find her room empty.

And Sara was nowhere to be found...

**TBC

* * *

**

**Author's notes- **I decided to focus a little more on Warrick in this chapter as a tribute to him leaving the show. He'll definitely be missed.

To everyone who feels like how the PEAP counsellor described Nick, this chapter is also dedicated to you. -smile-

I really hope you'd enjoyed this chapter. Do leave a review if you get the chance. It would be nice to know how you feel about it.

Love you all...


	24. When Fear Hijacks Reason

**Title**: In Hell With Love

**Rating**: T

**Disclaimer**: I do not own CSI or its characters. I'm just a fan.

**Author's notes**: It's been almost 3 years since my last update for this story and I must say, what a long period it has been. I could imagine the annoyance and frustrations that readers go through whenever the stories they have read never seems to come to an end. To be honest, I have been suffering from what most writers in this website have gone through: the lack of inspiration. I have been quite uninspired for a while now, but I have never forgotten this story or the readers who had reviewed each and every chapter with thoughtfulness and praise that I obviously do not deserve. A sudden urge to read the reviews again had me inspired again. I pray that you forgive my absence, and just understand there's a reason behind everything. I hope you haven't forgotten this story, because I'm extremely sure I haven't forgotten about you…

* * *

**Chapter 24**

"_Sorry to keep you waiting. It has been a really busy day."_

_Despite the grim environment that lined the walls of the institution, the jolly, plump figure of a nurse was as cheerful as the flowers outside. Sara noticed them as she stared out the window. Their tiny stalks sticking out of a patch of ground in the safe distance, in front of the lush emerald green rows of trees. Only the weeds and thorns seemed to grow in close proximity to the building responsible for trapping about a thousand oddities and enigmas. _

"…_So you're here for a visitation? Excellent! Right this way… sorry about the construction outside. We're building a new wing due to the increase admission of patients." The nurse laughed, matching the tempo of a machine gun. Sara couldn't help but feel a little more insane that when she first passed through the institution's large oak doors. _

"_We hardly get any visitors on that side of the building. Its interesting that you would want to visit anyone there—bringing a child with you, no less." Sara's line of sight was right at the nurse's rear end. Watching it sway from side to side gave it a hypnotic rhythm, that Sara couldn't help being annoyed by it. She gripped tightly to her social worker's hand, afraid to lose her in the heavy air of insanity._

"_Children shouldn't be allowed here… they shouldn't be exposed to this world at such an early age." She shook her head slightly. Sara knew that the nurse wasn't talking to her; just stating a comment to a world who doesn't care. She had never felt so invisible in her life. She clenched her hand just a little to let her social worker know that she's there. The tall, skinny woman squeezed back._

"_Watch out for the patients. Generally, they're harmless, but when provoked… let's just say it won't be pretty…" she laughed again. Sara wanted to slap her, even though the nurse was twice her size, both vertically and horizontally._

_The nurse continued to make useless comments about the institution. The social worker nodded along, occasionally looking towards Sara to make sure she was okay. She wasn't. With her age and height, the beige walls seemed to close in on them, its narrow length disappearing at the central point of perspective. The walls were old, and the paint was peeling in some areas. Their corners were crowded with mould and decorated with brown watermarks. As they walked through the narrow corridor, Sara grew increasingly afraid. There were patients loitering around, their eyes watching her with the desire of torment. They wanted what she had – life, sanity, freedom. A natural, innate response to desire what they do not have. Their presence made corridor enclosed and tight, the walls and ceiling maintaining their slant positioning as their lines converged into one point, failing to provide the illusion of depth and distance. _

_She couldn't even imagine what terrors lie await within the rooms. A cry that sounded like a mangled animal erupted behind a closed door. Yellow crime scene tape covered another. One of the rooms had its door removed, revealing an emaciated person staring out through a barred window. Several orderlies and nurses rushed into a room, each taking turns, holding a struggling patient down, while a masked doctor held out a syringe like a trophy. The jolly nurse walking with them waved and some of them nodded in acknowledgement, and upon noticing Sara, closed the door with urgency. _

_Sara looked away from the door and onto the ground. They were going to see her mother, but she could not understand why she didn't want to do so. She stared at her shoes, bought by someone else with money that was not intended for her and wondered if her mother would buy her a pair when she got better and out of this mad place. She felt sad at the thought and as they walked towards their destination, she turned her glaze towards a flight of stairs. The sign above had the word "EXIT" in caps and with her tears coating her eyes, the laminated sign seemed almost heavenly. With her short stature, the sunray shining thought the window at the top of the stairs was beckoning her to run up to its warmth. One day, she told herself, she will run up those stairs and be happy. Wherever that leads, if there's a door, there will be only joy waiting for her behind it…_

_Run up. Run up the stairs. It's the only way out of this place…_

* * *

She awoke to the sound of her own heavy breathing, and though she did not know if minutes or hours had passed she knew that she was more hurt than before. The side of her face had a bloody crust and her nose was bleeding onto her lap. The only thing keeping her from falling face first onto the ground from the wooden chair she sat on was the ropes that held her wrists to its respective hind legs. She moved her head slightly and was surprise at the pain that emitted from her neck to her entire body. Like the electricity that flowed through her synapses to trigger her sensory receptors, she was struck by a sudden recollection of trying to escape this place. For a moment she could not understand how her –what seemed to be at the time— flawless plan went wrong. She took pride in that plan. She took a few minutes to come up with it and a few weeks to gather the strength make it right. She had somehow managed to knock her tormentor out with her bare hands and ran as fast as she could to the stairs.

_Run up. Run up the stairs. It's the only way out of this place…_

She made it to the doors, but it wouldn't open. In a state of panic, she pushed the red button repeatedly that she was sure it would break in her hands but the doors wouldn't budge. She held onto the 3-point handle of the vault doors as she would hold the saving hands of a friend and pleaded it to open, leaning her head on its cool metallic surface. She swore she was fast enough. She was sure everything will be all right the moment she ran up the stairs and to the doors. She had made it this far. She almost made it out. In a final desperate attempt, she made a fist and banged on the doors. But the very last thing she remembered was an extremely swift blur of images before looking at the vaults doors from the bottom of the poorly made stairs, as well as the sight of her tormentor at the top of it.

"…_You shouldn't have run. You're making things worse for yourself…"_

She heard him say as he lolled her head back and inspected the wound on her face. The flow of blood changed and began to crawl along her jaw and down her neck. A separate stream made its way from the side of her face and into her ear, making her world sound like it was submerged underwater. He gently held the back of her head with his hand and that strange movement made her mouth open slightly and caused her to look down towards her nose involuntary. She moved her eyes, and noticed the vault doors at the top of the stairs were opened. _They were open! Why weren't they opened before?_ Triggered by sadness and pain, she inhaled sharply as he turned her head to the left slightly, and then to the right, before putting her back in the position she was before. Blood dripped down her nose again and hit her pants with an audible _plat…plat… plat _

"_What do you want Miss Sidle?"_ He asked. The question seems misplaced, dropped onto their state of being like a sudden idea, like a sequence of a dream injected into the subconscious. She closed her eyes and opened them for a moment.

"… I want to… get out of here…"

He took out a box of gloves, _"Where do you want to go?"_

"… Home…"

"_This is your home. You're mine. You belong with me." _

She swallowed hard before saying, "…I'm not…"

"_What are you then?"_

"…I'm not… I'm not yours." She felt an unexplainable weight hanging from the back of her throat and the bottom of her heart. A sudden wave of extreme hopelessness made her way towards her.

"_Then… what are you doing here?"_

Her mouth opened slightly and she started to sob. "I don't know…"

The gloves stretched from the opening of the box and into his grasp with a quick snap. She watched tiredly as he put them on: his fingers wriggling like the legs of a capsized bug, whose struggles are only stopped once the glove reverted back to the shape of a hand.

It's going to start again, and it will only stop when he says so. She can only hope to pass out before that. She closes her eyes and repeats in her mind the words that she still thinks will save her someday…

_Pancho, pancho, pancho…_

* * *

Sara opened the bathroom door and jumped to her feet. She staggered for a second as a wave of dizziness almost dropped her, but she forced herself to recover quickly. She rushed out of the room and hurried along the narrow corridor. Her heart was racing and her leg muscles tremble with exhaustion. Dizziness struck her again like a tidal wave and she felt weak and drained of every scrap of remaining energy. For a moment her legs refused to hold her up and she fell, but she managed to catch herself by grabbing hold of the railing that lined the hospital walls.

_Stop here and he'll see you…_

She took a deep labored breath and push herself up, using the railings and her IV stand for support. She slowly straightened out her legs and stood up with her knees bent. She limped awkwardly at first but slowly got into a painful, intermittent gait. Her bare feet made an irregular rhythm as they hit the floor. She moved as fast as she could but every move she made felt like she was waddling through quicksand, with shards of glass mixed in with the grains. The tingle of pain stayed behind her knees and there was tightness in her calves, but they were nothing compared to the fear she had in her heart. As she quickly turned a corner, the tubes connecting her to the IV stand got tangled around her foot. It fell to the ground with a loud crash, crackling like lightning. The stand broke into two, separated from its adjustable knob like an open fracture.

_Make a sound and he'll hear you…_

The crash had increased the intensity of her fears and she stood frozen in her spot, wondering if anyone heard it and had come running towards her direction. They would see her and drag her back into her room, and if she put up a fight, they would have to sedate or restrain her. Looking for someone was out of the question and it would be of no use if she went to any of the nurses or doctors for help, as all lines will lead her back to her tormentor, her PEAP counselor. An uninvited flicker of a memory came into her mind of the nurse that waved to the doctors and orderlies in the room with the struggling patient when she was young. Another flicker came and this time it was the doctors that came to sedate her whenever she awoke – how terrible she felt after that; how she preferred death than to the heaviness of her body pinning her to the ground.

_Think it's scary being lost? Wait till you're found… _

Her tormentor's voice came in at that last thought. Her body ached. As the horrors of her memories flooded over her once again, her stomach rebelled. She raised her hand weakly to her mouth and leaned heavily against the hospital wall. The fear that filled her numbed her fingers, closed her throat and for a split second, she was unable to breathe. She needed to run. She needed to get out of this place. Hands shaking, she grabbed the top half of the IV stand and limped down the hallway, moving fast, not caring about the physical pain her rush produced. Sara didn't stop running until she made it onto the hospital's stairwell.

_Run up. Run up the stairs. It's the only way out of this place…_

She bolted up the stairs. It had been out of pure animalistic terror, the absolute horror of being caged and helpless.

_Fear hijacks reason…_

* * *

_Emotion trumps logic…_

"Sara? Sara!" Nick yelled upon entering Sara's room.

He had never been so afraid for someone in his life. Hearing what Warrick had to say at the end of the line stopped his heart. That one person. That one living person whose action towards their friend is killing them all was here all along. They have literally handed Sara over to him. Became traitors to her by submitting to his will. Nick cursed. No wonder Sara was so afraid of letting him go, no wonder she was so afraid of being with him in the first place. She knew this was going to happen. And he allowed it to happen…

He had called her hospital room but knew that the chances of her answering again were slim. He knew because he had tried calling her several times on his cell with no luck, the dial tone mocking his attempts after he dialed.

Nick ran towards her room as fast as he could. The corridors were empty and quiet when he got onto the hospital floor. Having no idea what had happened for the hour he had left her, he grabbed his gun from this holster and walked into her room, prepared for anything that stood in his way.

He surveyed the room, looked behind the hospital curtains and behind the drapes protecting the room from the sun, hoping to find Sara's tormentor – hoping for his chance to kill the bastard. _Nothing_. He looked under the bed, hoping that he would find Sara there, laying on her side, waiting for him to rescue her. _Nothing_. As much as he wanted to bust down every door and go in guns blazing, he couldn't put Sara in that kind of danger. He has already let her down more than once; he's not going to make any mistakes this time. He worked his way around her room. He saw nothing out of the ordinary. No clues as to where she could be.

_Did he take her? Had her torment found her and took her away? Was he too late?_

His stomach twisted in knots. This was worse than any case he'd ever gone on in his CSI career. This was personal. His training instinct kicked in by the time he got to the bathroom door. There was blood on the ground. _Sara's blood?_ He analyzed the small blood splatter and theorized how it came to be. What he saw made his temper explode.

Rage flared to life. He knew what her tormentor did. He knew that he came into this room –the room that Nick had tried so hard to make Sara feel safe and secure— and terrorized her. He had hurt her, reopened her wound and left her bleeding. He tightened his grip on his gun and fought the desire to punch something for the abuse that was done to her.

_Emotions trumps logic…_

There had to be a faint trail of blood somewhere. Nick stood up and ran so fast that the world became a blur around him. He could think nothing more than to save Sara. Then they would be free from this misery, it would be all over. No more nightmares, no more guilt.

* * *

_Run up. Run up the stairs. It's the only way out of this place…_

The metal door opened with a deep sounding industrial crank and before she knew it, Sara had made her way to the top of the hospital. The first thing she noticed was the dark silent sky and its otherworldly presence it radiates. Without hearing a thing, a flash of light and wisp of cool untainted air penetrated into her senses, tempting to take her soul away in a whirling gust. The silence of this world seemed to fold over her with a shiver of ghastliness, as she stood feeling the cold on her body. The suddenly feel of weightless seemed to cause everything to sway around her, so when she took a step forward, she stumbled and fell, banging her knees and elbows onto the floor. The nausea from before came back and seized her by the ribs as it squeezed her abdomen with all its might. Tears streamed down her face, tears of pain and fear and rage even as she emptied her stomach. Even then, the spasms continued, leaving her to dry heave until she thought she was dying.

_One day, she told herself, she will run up those stairs and be happy. Wherever that leads, if there's a door, there will be only joy waiting for her behind it…_

When the attack passed, she stared onto the ground and started to cry and began to hit herself at the side of her face, pleading to herself to wake up. This can't be happening. She ran up those stairs and there was a door, but there was nothing behind it.

There was no joy.

The door behind her rattled, and Sara could not tell if it was the wind or her tormentor. Fear and paranoia made the rhythmic thumps sound like a monster with no arms attempting to get through, throwing itself on the door's metallic frame. With nowhere left to go, Sara picked herself up to find a safe place…

* * *

Whether it was instincts or his own personal experience with post-traumatic stress, he did not know, but Nick soon found himself heading towards the rooftop. It made sense to him: _To be locked up in a basement or to be buried alive, one would desperately seek the opposite. To be trapped down in hell, one would look towards the heaven._ He ran up the stairs two at a time and opened the door.

In an instant, the silence that reverberated the stairwell vanished, and for some reason, Nick knew that he would find Sara here. He shouted her name as he ran, a mist of cold breath coming out of his mouth. After a few moments of searching, something caught his eye. It was far away but the first thing he could make out was the color of his brown jacket, prompting him to increase his stride. As he got closer, the image got clearer and clearer. Details came into focus and started making sense in his mind – _Her hair, her back, his jacket on her back, her arms._ By then he was running, rubbing his feet across the gravel between strides to make sure she knew he was coming; calling her name to let her know that he was looking for her. But as quickly as he felt the bouts of elation flowing through him, a sense of nervousness and dread begin to wash over him. As more details began registering into his brain – _the splint on her arm, her bandages, the white hospital gown, the IV drip with the broken stand_ – he had the feeling that something was terribly wrong. Something bad is going to happen…

For as his run turned into a jog and finally into a cautious walk, Nick noticed that Sara was sitting on the edge of the building, and she was leaning forward, hands on her knees, and there was nothing to stop her from falling down onto the dirty streets below…

**TBC**

* * *

I'm not sure if anyone's still reading this story, but if you are, do drop me a review. I'll continue this story if I know people are still reading this :)


	25. Solace

**Title**: In Hell With Love

**Rating**: T

**Disclaimer**: I do not own CSI or its characters. I'm just a fan.

**Author's notes**: Emotions, to me, are extremely important when it comes to describing the basis of human's survival here on earth. Emotions are seen everywhere and are designed to ensure that we're paying attention to the world around us. Whether or not we're aware of it, every choice we make is based upon our emotions. To be happy or sad, to hate or to love, to be with people or to be alone, to live or to die—these decisions are greatly based on our emotions. I pray that you'll choose the positive, because that is what I would like you to have and I would give it to you if I could.

To **GSRfan82** (I apologize for the wait, and I really want to thank you for being the first to review the previous chapter. I want to see Nick do that too…thank you for striking me with inspiration.), **CrazyGunFire** (I'm really glad you stuck around :) and I hope you'll be around for a while. I really appreciate your review and I'm grateful that you're willing to reread this story again), **rcsouza** (Even though I don't understand Portuguese—_Google Translate_ helped me out on this one—I'm really happy that you loved it. I'll continue this story for you with this chapter), **multicoloredpen917** (Thank you for your review :) I'm glad you liked the story so far. I hope you'll like this chapter too), **CSIsnickers101** (To be called a genius by you is too much :) I hope I'll be able to live up to your expectations with this chapter. Thank you. Hugs), **Sarah** (Are you Sarah L? If you are, I never got a chance to thank you for writing me such a rave review for chapter 23. I wanted to email you but you didn't leave a contact. I hope it's you, but if you're not, I'll still love you no matter what.) and last but not least **stlouiegal** (I just wanted to thank you for reviewing my story not only once, but twice and putting me as a favorite on your list. I wanted to commend you on how spot on you are in regards to the previous chapters. The positive emotions you've built up in me had a large influence on this chapter, and I hope you'll love it. You have my heart, and I'll give it to you willingly. Thank you so much :) )

To those who added this story on their favorite list, I would like to thank you too.

* * *

**Chapter 25**

_Do you know why you're here?_

_Do you know why I'm doing this?_

_It's because… I can._

_I can give you the awareness of death to encourage you to live more intensely._

_I can put you close to the brink of death and bring you back whenever I want._

_I can control your pain, your feelings, and your emotion._

_I can make you find out and discover that you cannot do without me._

_But ultimately, all I want is to destroy something beautiful._

_And that beauty is you…_

This was not the first time Nick found himself on the roof of a building, but this would be the first time he finds himself on the ledge. The low ledge in front of him was grey, bleak and dreary as the landscape stretched out before him, like a stage hosting a melancholy play. In the background there was the sound of traffic, of angry men going about their way in machines, as fast as possible, not caring for the safety of others. A siren blared a loud and raucous sound, calling dibs on their importance, carrying the tragedies that the night brings. The stale air blew its rancid polluted breath upon them, making the metal vents surrounding them howl.

The vents have come back to taunt him.

He felt a sense of déjà vu about where he was – same characters, different place, and the same situation. The feeling that he should be comforted and uplifted at knowing where she was only made him more misplaced that ever, confused, lost in someone else's life.

_A protocol was established in a situation like this; do not engage unnecessarily, listen out for orders from the proper authorities, wait for backup and most importantly…subject's survival is paramount._

Nick knew that she was under the care of her PEAP counselor, and whatever he instructs would be the course of action they would have to take. It's like giving the reins to a sadistic scientist where one will not know the outcome of his brutal experiments till his subject is dead and rotting in the rejected pile of garbage.

For a moment he did not know what to do and standing where he stood made his existence almost pointless. To call out to her might scare her off the ledge, plummeting to her death at 120 miles per hour. The ground below would be just another crime scene and Sara would be just another dead body. _How would he explain this to the team then? How could he ever forgive himself for letting it happen? _To wait would result in her dying of the cold instead, of her falling off the ledge on her own, or worse, going back to her tormentor, strapped in a straight jacket and pumped full of drugs, even though she was just afraid and not crazy. _How would he explain this to the team then? How could he ever forgive himself for letting it happen?_

Images of worse-case scenarios played in his head; some plausible, some downright ridiculous. It wasn't until his phone vibrated did he snap back to reality, and not knowing what else to do, he read the message laminating on his phone screen.

_(Heading 2 u now. Location?)_

It was Brass. The formality in the message meant that he was on the move, and needed a quick reply.

_(Hospital's roof. Situation critical, but under control.)_

The last bit of his reply had been a programmed text message, one of the few phases given to all CSIs once they've been assigned their phones. He had never used this one before…

_(Roger that.)_

Nick sighed as he looked at the programmed reply, but just as he was ready to put his phone away, his phone vibrated once again.

_(Don't let her fall ok?)_

He nodded subconsciously. If anyone knew what was happening at this point of time, it would be Jim Brass. In all his experiences from being a police officer to a homicide detective, he has seen it all, and this was just one of the possible outcomes of this dire situation.

_(Roger that.)_

'_A protocol was established in a situation like this …'_ Nick repeated the thought in his head, but he did not carry on. He looked at Sara. She looked so vulnerable and fallible, her shoulders slumped, her head down, that his impulses overrode the decision he had taken only minutes before to be professional.

… _Subject's survival is paramount…_

… _Do not let the subject die…_

Breaking every rule and logic, Nick sat on the ledge, not too far away from Sara. He was going to tell her how sorry he was for upsetting her, that he was quite grateful for her efforts in trusting him to make things right when he has done nothing but failed over and over again, but as the grainy tingling feel of the ledge coursed through his body, the reality of the situation jerked forcefully upon his senses, shuddering with messages of an immediate danger of falling, as well as failing, and before he could summon any words, the thoughts were gone.

Instead, the emotions that took over him were ones that he could not understand, at that point of time, why they begin to manifest in him now. They were anger and irritation towards his own friends. He became angry at the CSI team, those that claimed to be Sara's close—and probably—only friends, and wondered where on earth they could be. For as long as she had been in this hospital, neither of them stayed—like him— for days at a time, staying only hours and hours before leaving. From the moment she went missing to the moment he found her after god knows how long, their absence was palpable. But then, a sense of reason came to him and he began to wonder if it was actually possible for them to do so—to stay with her. Hospital policy allowed no more than 2 visitors at a time, and the lab quite a distance away from here for them to be able to make it within the hour. This sudden rationality made him feel extremely ugly, selfish and unreasonable. Had it not been for his insistence of staying with Sara, more of her friends would have been able to see her, to be with her. He became quite irritated with himself to the point of agitation, for he knows that all he wanted was them to see how he had placed his entire being into this case and expected them to do the same and he wanted them to do it his way.

And then, without warning and his conscious intentions, he found himself being angry at Sara. He did not mean to be, but the emotion came over him like a gust of wind in a narrow alleyway, its slender body circling his arms with an unusual restlessness that was capable of knocking him down onto his back and leaving him on the ground, completely vulnerable. He was a man. They have a certain code of conduct that leaves no room for tears, questions and terror. It was simple; save the girl, fight the bad guy, be the hero, end the story and live happily ever after. _Why couldn't he do that? Why couldn't he just do that? _For almost 2 years, he had been crying for his long-lost friend, he had prayed for her return, dwelled in self-pity and denial, and blamed himself and almost everyone else for this terrible misfortune that had befallen upon them. He wasn't angry at her for running out of her hospital room and onto the roof where life and death could be measured by how far one was willing to step off the ledge. _No, he had himself to blame for that_. He was angry, because she was his friend –one of the best— and without her even knowing or trying, was able to extract every care and emotion out of him that would make him weak. Her absence can make his world crumble, and it was only when she was taken away that he realized how much she meant to him as a friend. She was his friend, his sister, his kryptonite, and all he has ever been to her was ungrateful.

_Not again. Not this again…_

He knew he had to go through all of this again. Telling her that everything will be okay, that he'll come after whoever did this, that he'll always be with her no matter what. He imagined himself saying the same things over and over again; the same concerns and lies, worried that she would remember and not believe him like the first time or worse, not remembering at all. He would make promises that he cannot keep, vows that he cannot abide by, pacts that he would break, and all for what? So that he could feel better about himself? Was this about guilt or regret? Self-loathing? No. He simply wanted the continued promise of lift, this hope that he could, in his own way, challenge the unfair trials that life had set out for them, and feel for whatever moments, together with Sara, the joys and majesty of their brief living.

He looked at her as he sat next to her on the ledge, and noticed that she was shaking. Not in the rhythmic way the body moves when it experiences great cold, but in an irregular beat that mimics the intervals of an unpredictable tremor.

And he knew the reason why…

Her wound reopened and she was bleeding from her shoulder again. There was also a cut on her hand that he hadn't seen before, and he knew she had gotten that just a few moments ago. The IV tube was still attached to the back of her hand, and its bag was empty of its contents of its painkiller concoctions, looking like a deflated organ. Some of her blood was flowing back into the tube, mixing with the foreign fluid. In that moment, all of his negative emotions towards his friends dissipated and diverted into anger towards the hospital.

"I'm going to get you out of here. These people here, they have no idea what they're doing. You don't have to feel this way anymore. I'll make the pain will go away. As soon as you can be moved, I'm taking you away from here..." He said, more to himself than to Sara. He wasn't expecting her to listen to him at all. He had said all this before anyways...

_More promises…more promise he could break so easily…_

"...Nick…"

He didn't expect it but the reply was soft and sure. That was the first time she had said his name. _The first time in a long time_. It had been so long, that he had almost forgotten what it sounded like, and to hear it once again was beautiful. An unspeakable sense of jubilance crept into his body so fast he thought he might burst, that even if he had fallen off the ledge, he would survive just clinging onto the pure joy that he was experiencing. All those moments in her prison and the hospital, while he was trying to save her and almost failing, how he had walked out of her room when she needed him most, the way he had abandoned her that would ultimately lead to this precarious situation, the awful feelings that he had felt towards the team and her… despite every despicable sin he had committed that would damned him to a lifetime of guilt and shame went away by the way she said his name. He felt forgiven and cleanse by her forgiveness of him. She had listened to everything he said, remembered it and knew that he was a friend—her friend, and that he was only here because he believed that there was a way he could help her, to save her, to rescue her.

_Maybe even fix her…_

"Yeah?" He replied absentmindedly, the sense of not wanting to forget this moment rendering him speechless.

"...Why did you leave?" She asked, more of longing than an accusation of abandonment.

He was surprised at her sudden loquaciousness and caught off guard by her question. It was as if the openness of this grand space on a high place had return part of his friend back to him; as if the air from above it was the key to arouse her out of her catatonic state of solitude; as if extreme fear had the ability to awaken the final sense of awareness and acceptance of the end of someone's life. Whatever it was, he felt a great need to give her a reply.

"Because I thought it was the right thing to do…I thought we would have more time…".

She moved and this time, she was sitting with her head on her knees, his jacket and her hospital gown baggy, her hair blowing with the wind, a mild tangled mess. Her face was dry and if she had been crying earlier, the only clue would be the small round-shaped patches on her gown, seeping through onto the hospital pants she had on. The shivers visibly running though her body but going completely unregistered in her face, a lifeless reflection of the dark sky above.

Fearing that she was not convinced by what he had to say, Nick continued, "It gives me hope; it gives me an amazing hope, to know that you are here. I've been waiting for this for so long, and I never knew how blessed I was to have you. All those days of not knowing where you were, what you were doing or how you were doing were the most horrifying days of my life. I had dreamt of moments, told myself things, and imagined our lives being different from what they are now. How you would be… be if all of this didn't happen. Our lives would have been so different…"

He looked down to his hands and felt this deepen sense of lost as he spoke. He remembered the day when she smiled at him just moments before her kidnapping. The way she spoke, the way she walked, her personality laid out before him, only to be reduced down to this; her brilliant mind retracted away, her physical state withered down to nothing.

"It seems like… a horrible crime had been committed but the wrong person went to prison. I know that you came here not to end your life but get away from some part of it that scares you. And you came here… because you just didn't know what to do. You're sitting here... because you didn't know where to go. I know, I get it, I would have done the same thing."

_That's not completely true. He's not as strong as Sara… He might have chosen to end his life right here…_

"The team is coming, and we're coming here to be with you. They'll come and you might not recognize them at first but they'll know you. They might call out to you, or just wave… They would want to speak to you, and they'll speak to you because they cannot help it. We have missed everything about you; your face, your smile, even the mere space between us. All the while we would know how blessed we are to have each other... and to have you. All the while I will know that you are here. How can I leave you alone now? I'll never leave you again…"

_That's not completely true. He's not as strong as Sara… He had left her once before…_

He hated his thoughts. He had always admired the way Sara kept her promises, said what she meant, do what she said she would do. That made her a great CSI, a better friend and a wonderful person. _Why haven't they noticed it before? Why did it have to lead up to this for them to notice?_ If the roles were reversed, Sara would be able to talk anyone out of sitting on a ledge. She had all that – all these talents –and now it's gone, and Nick knew that he didn't have the same ability she does.

As he dwelled on his thoughts, Nick noticed a police vehicle turning into the hospital building. Its pint-size image with its tiny lights flashing blue and red allowed him to distract himself for a moment, and as he moved his feet to trace its path, as small amount of gravel fell from where he sat. An impending omen of what's to come if they did not get off the ledge. More and more police vehicles and SUVs followed the path of the first, a neat line of shapes mimicking a trail of army ants, making their way to them...

_They're coming. And Nick has only a minute to do what he has to do…_

"I'm going towards you now and I hope with all my heart that you come towards me. I'll take you away from here and I'll take you home. And I know from there... everything's going to be all right…"

He had caught her attention, and she looked at him wearily through her sad, lonely eyes. Eyes filled with tears, her face streaked by their damage.

"... Nick… I don't want to stay here…"

"I know…"

"…Can we go home today?"

A simple request that he knew he would not be able to grant. There was no possible way for Sara to be taken out of this hospital in the next few days. There were still tests to be run, evaluations to conduct and counseling sessions to take place. It would be against the law for her to leave this hospital. _Do not lie; you have lied to her enough. Tell the truth, you have to tell her the truth._ His conscience yelling into his ears, and his heart knowing that another promise was about to be broken again.

_More promises…more promise he could break so easily…_

He nodded as tears began to form in his eyes and lies began to form on his lips.

"Okay. We'll go… we'll go today. Just come with me, alright?"

He stood up and took her in his arms and embraced her so tightly and suddenly that all the air in her chest was squeezed out, her vision near blurring. He smelled familiar and she breathed him in as deeply as she could, burying her face in his shirt. She felt loved in his grasp and without knowing it was coming she found herself breaking down all at once, sobbing and pressing her cheek against the smooth, curved bone behind his ear. She wasn't afraid for her own life so much as stricken by the fear that she might not see him ever again.

Nick from the corner of his eyes sees a blur of bodies running about, moving in no particular flow or direction. He could hear his friends yelling close by. He couldn't hear the words, but he understood that help was coming. He only had to keep Sara from falling away, and as the bodies became one focused crowd of people, he strengthened his grip on her body to let her know: He would not let her go. Even though, hugging her in a precarious position, with the wind blowing cold air through them as they stood together on the ledge of the hospital building, he thought he would like this moment last forever: people close by calling out to them, a friend who had once disappeared and became a complete stranger, now holding him with the intensity that matched the power of gravity. She was on the ledge because she wanted to live, and he was going to tell that to the people around them and proclaim it to anyone who would listen.

But before he could say anything, he noticed a familiar figure standing at a distance. The sound of his footsteps crept its way towards them like the ticking seconds of a clock before the stroke of midnight. And as the sound manifested into an image and that image into a person, Nick knew exactly who he was up against.

Dr. Dennis Namon walked up towards them, with a group of policemen and orderlies close behind him.

"Mr. Stokes, let go of my patient and step away from the ledge. You're done here…"

**TBC**

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****I hope you'll enjoy this chapter. Express your emotions in a review if you can :)


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